Schattenjäger
by Loving Companion Cube
Summary: Sequel to Schattenspiel, VtM:Bloodlines. The Jester is dead, long live the Emperor! Nonetheless Prince Sebastian LaCroix still has enemies undermining his position and some of them are not Kindred. Beta Reader: Ivy till ch.17
1. Prologue

**Vampire - The Masquerade: Bloodlines and all related characters are owned by White Wolf**

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Being a vampire sounds pretty cool in your fantasies, and according to novels and television is also much fun with a lot of parties and stuff. The blood drinking thing appears only as a minor price for immortality, insane beauty and supernatural abilities. As always reality beats the imagination to death. Brutal, bloody and merciless. Being a vampire is nothing like the Anne Rice stuff and even Bram Stoker's version sounds very comfortable. At least Dracula loves. I bet the real Dracula must have laughed his undead ass off while reading that book. Anyhow, it's not romantic. It's like a big fucking gang and mafia war. Mix it up with corruption, politicians and intrigues which would make every conspiracy theorist turn green with envy and voila! There you go: welcome to the Kindred society. Not that I want to complain after the Prince kicked me out of his tower and prohibited me from agreeing to assignments involving Kindred without his approval. I'm Ventrue and Ventrue are the cream of the crop. Rich, respected and proud; I'm probably only the last two but that won't help me at all. What was LaCroix's ascent was my downfall, and I don't want to lose face by admitting that I'm dependent on the Prince of Los Angeles, crawling back on my knees into his office – or even more that the reason behind kicking me out was my treachery with the Sabbat and my loss of the Prince's confidence. However this is something only a few other Kindred know, those being LaCroix and myself with two more: the Regent and Primogen of clan Tremere Maximillian Strauss and Ophelia, former Primogen of clan Malkavian. But she had vanished, making space for a new Malkavian Primogen: Therese Voerman.

For the public I'm still the Prince's protégé and most trusted asset. A pretty shitty burden, and according to Dean he had changed. What I heard on the streets was that he was like that before the Ankaran Sarcophagus showed up, but LaCroix's change in attitude didn't boost his popularity, only made it that he was feared once again. Nowhere were there jokes about the Jester in the tower. _Le phénix rusé_, the Emperor, the Dictator. I didn't meet him again after he threw me out, and as I pondered if all these mumblings were true I really wanted to see him again, in fact: I missed him sometimes, no, pretty often. You only know what you miss when you lose it. It was kind of sick, but finally I accepted having feelings for the most manipulative, self-absorbed asshole I've ever met in my entire life. Needless to say I really needed to hide that I was more than eager when I heard the Prince would be attending one of his famous executions in the Nocturne Theatre. Bad remembrances for me in that case, but at least it wasn't my ass kneeling on the floor and being beheaded. My eyes were glued to every move LaCroix made, except when I needed to cover it for Dean and James so that they wouldn't pick up that I had more than a soft spot for the dictator on the stage. They were right. He had changed. He was calm, almost like that entire ruckus months ago hadn't even touched him in the slightest manner; and the whispers in the audience proved what the dementation told me and made me smile. Why? I don't know. Shouldn't I be pissed that he used me to come this far and then dropped me like a hot potato? This affection towards him was unhealthy for me. I'm old enough to realise such things unlike a teenager but that was at least a minor concern. I needed money. Would've been half as bad if LaCroix hadn't wanted 2.000$ paid back every month. Feeding got more time consuming, because I needed to hunt again. No nice and cold fridge with blood packs. No fast food for the German. No well-paid assignments from other Kindred because I'm the Prince's protégé, while the gain from the Confession all went into LaCroix's account which was already full and if Mercurio hadn't been here I would probably be sleeping in the sewers, because I can't find any free and payable flats in Camarilla territory. I need a job. Without one, my Permanent Resident Card will be void and I'll have to leave the States, because LaCroix fired me. I don't want to leave the States. I want to stop running away when things get complicated and in Germany there is nothing waiting for me anyway. Good pal Mercurio was here again to point me to Arthur Kilpatrick. I really owe him my ass as much as I own his for not reporting the Astrolite incident to the Prince.

Arthur wants me to search for his employed bounty hunter Carson, and after several hours I was able to get the right password for his stupid laptop. Who would've guessed it was literally pinned against the wall? This track led me to a guy named Gimble where McGee – the one Carson was after – was going to model his limbs, and Gimble was interested in my offer to do the modelling for him. If this will gain me money, I'm in. What could go bad during a modelling job?

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AN: Thanks Margotine for pointing the mistake out in the last chapter of Schattenspiel! My French is just...oh there's no word to describe the awfulness of it. I don't want to be responsible for a diplomatic incident between France and Germany, but I really like the language. My brain is just not able to understand it D:

Thanks Celeste (Danke für die Zeit die du investierst!), Heartfrost (I'm still grinning like a retard), rednightmare (He pisses us off, that's why we love him) and Zaekka (Nein! Niemals!) for the reviews!


	2. Théâtre Français

**Celeste:** It will be a lot of fun with Therese as malkavian Primogen, hence she thinks of herself as Ventrue but I won't spoil things here :)

**Thanks Heartfrost **(Therese and Kat? Uh oh),** rednightmare** (sorry, no Gimble), **Rozielle **(here you go), **Vivienne **(love is in the air...), **Zaekka **(Twilight kam 06 raus, Story spielt 04) and **Topgallant** (Your wish was heard) **for the reviews!**

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For the leader of the Anarchs it was hard to believe all the bullshit that the Prince currently gave them on stage. Nines Rodriguez watched with a grumpy expression the announcement of that fascist Prince who should have been dead months ago, or at least last night but LaCroix hadn't sent the promised letter. Anyway after the supposed deal of the mummy for a truce, there was silence around the Prince for months and now they knew why, as LaCroix explained the treachery of the three vampires who knelt on the stage. They'd infiltrated the Camarilla as Sabbat spies. Yes that's sweet and Nines really hoped both factions would kill each other, leaving the Anarch Free State a Free State, but shit no! LaCroix had really made a glorious speech for himself out of it, like he knew everything from the beginning! Even his pursuit of the sarcophagus just served his purpose to uncover the Sabbat spies. Nines had the urge to jump out of his seat again and yell what fucking bullshit this all was. Glancing at Damsel and then at Skelter, their expressions told him that they all shared the same opinion, however Nines hadn't survived this long as an Anarch leader because he underestimated his enemies. He wouldn't make the same mistake as his predecessor who was killed by the Kuei-Jin because he didn't size them up fully, and Nines started to believe that he'd made the same mistake at least once against his better judgement: when LaCroix called the blood hunt on him. This should have been the sign for him not to think that the dandy Prince was not dangerous. Shit, he had to admit that the French asshole was more scheming than all of them had expected. That's why Nines was pissed off to the bones. Jack said the contents of the sarcophagus would blow the Prince away. Literally, and in that same night the supposedly blown away Prince walked onto the very same stage he's standing on now and gave a damn fucking speech that even impressed some of his brethren! Nines was too engulfed in his own anger to listen to the stupid crap LaCroix was giving them.

"Let the penalty commence." The key words for the Sheriff to raise his sword and chop the first head off. It sort of dragged Nines' attention back to the stage where the Brujah Primogen was now nothing more than ash for an urn. LaCroix declared the theatre Elysium some months ago and now in a change of mood he undeclared it to hold his petty little shows again.

Dressed in a dark blue suit, which was probably so expensive Nines would get a headache thinking about it, the Prince behaved like the grand dictator himself. The Brujah wanted to hurl. Sadly the three piles of ashes on the stage couldn't talk anymore. Not doubting for a second that those Kindred knew something useful and LaCroix had just come up with something to dispose of them like he did with Grout; and what by the way happened to the kid? No idea how Embracing her was harming the Ventrue snobs and the information they'd researched about her was even more confusing. She was neither born rich nor rich by owning her own company. Just a normal person from the worker class, with long dark blonde hair, typical German edged face, blue eyes. On top of that a rough military appearance that didn't suit a Ventrue at all! What the hell came into Alex's mind? Guess he would never know, and the fact that the kid came from the worker class, was perhaps also a reason why he was a bit soft toward her. She was promising, really promising and he was a bit disappointed that she became such an ass kisser. Disgusting.

"We've eliminated the Kuei-Jin and driven the Sabbat out of this city, so let this be a warning to all who endanger the laws of the Camarilla." Stepping to the edge of the stage, LaCroix raised his head and let his sight wander over the audience. Nines clenched his jaw and clawed his fingers into the armrest of the red padded seat. "Because they endanger with their actions our society and our blood. As Prince of this city I won't take such transgressions lightly and will punish them with all possible severity." Nines couldn't believe that all of this was turning in LaCroix's favour. There had to be something to prove that there was something off and he'd really like to punch it out of the Prince's baby face.

"Stop giving us this bullshit!" He couldn't hold it anymore. This was just too much and once more if Damsel and Skelter hadn't stopped him, Nines would have remodelled the Prince's face with some potence-supported punches. Eyes were on him, then on the Prince but he never let the ass on the stage out of his angry stare. The interruption should have pissed off LaCroix, leaving him looking angry as it always did when Nines did that. It was nearly some kind of tradition, however LaCroix just smiled mildly! He fucking smiled and crossed his hands behind his back as if he were talking to a stubborn child.

"Mr. Rodriguez, fierce as always." Did he want to mock him? Snarling, Nines freed himself from the grip of his companions. "I appreciate your concern about the Camarilla, but as you can see we can get rid of our problems very efficiently." That was a veiled threat Nines didn't miss.

"Do you want to threaten us again?" It was somehow frustration which spoke out of his mouth and since Jack was gone after the thing with the sarcophagus, the spirit of the Anarchs had been kind of let down, especially with the broken promise that the idiot up there would be dead. Was LaCroix really that cunning? Did the Ventrue really make a fool out of himself just to turn the tables and have them, the whole city, look like fools? Cursed politicians! He hated them to the guts with their intrigues and the only ones who were suffering were the little people.

"If you take facts as an offense, Mr. Rodriguez, I'm terribly sorry." Sarcasm oozing out of that sentence, Nines snarled a last time before turning around and leaving the Nocturne Theatre with Damsel and Skelter following him. He needed a vent for his steam and staying in the same room as that lying bastard would just make things worse, and he had no urge to get in a fight with the Prince's muscle and deliver to LaCroix a perfect reason to kill him on the spot.

"Hey lad? Everything alright?" Skelter had an unusually soft and calm voice for his appearance. Bald, of huge soldier stature and being of African-American origin he'd joined the Anarchs sometime after Vietnam and he could kick some asses around when you got on his bad side.

"I just need to clear my head after all this shit LaCroix has stuffed in." Still he didn't want to think about all of this. Politics never was and never would be his domain. He was a man of action, not hot air speeches. Damsel and Skelter knew when it was better to leave him alone, and with a friendly but strong pat by Skelter on his shoulder both left him alone so he could wander around the more deserted streets of L.A. at this time. Ever since his Embrace he'd stayed in Los Angeles. Nines loved the city, a free city and it should stay free for all eternity. They kicked the Camarilla's ass out long ago and they would do it again, regardless of any tricks LaCroix would try. Their spirit might be down at the moment but it wouldn't die! Yes it was kind of a failure. Every plan had failed against the Prince and now he had the mind to think about the reasons. First and foremost there was the kid. Alexander's kid. He was a snobby Ventrue, but wanted to join them. Of course Nines was not convinced by fucking Ventrue hot air, so he wanted to see actions. _"Let us see doings, cape,"_ he had told him cold and Alex agreed, wanting to Embrace a human which would totally piss off clan Ventrue and of course violate Camarilla law for siring without permission. That bastard really did it but ended up caught. What a poor bastard. He had the right spirit nonetheless and because the kid was Alex's kid, he didn't polish her puss on the spot. Hell, he even saved her life two times and she still sucked up her way to the Prince. Nines couldn't understand that. At least Alex drove a thorn into LaCroix's side for some nights but that son of a bitch somehow got her on his side, making her his protégé. It made him want to hurl. Nines always held the opinion that LaCroix could not have gotten the position of Prince in a natural manner, rather fulfilling some love jobs with his ass.

The moon was hidden beneath the clouds as Nines looked into the dark sky of the night, the alley abandoned and only trash on the dirty ground. Kicking a can out of his way the Brujah smelled something besides the usual smell of the streets and he was experienced enough to pay attention to it. With a smooth and fast motion he dragged out his silver Desert Eagle, pointing at the spot from which he smelled the suspicious odour. Indeed someone was walking toward him, hands raised.

"I wish no harm, Mr. Nines Rodriguez." A calm, old voice reached his ears, the Anarch leader's eyes only a slim stroke.

"Just stop there and I won't harm you instead." He would not let a stranger near him that easily. By no means was he dumb and the stranger stopped, letting time pass so that Nines was able to inspect him. Mid-forty appearance, good clothes and a politician's face. A Ventrue. God did those bastards stalk him? "Move aside cape and don't give me a reason to shoot you, so we'll all be happy." Not lowering his weapon, the Brujah started to move forward slowly, always keeping an eye on the unwelcome Ventrue.

"I'm here to talk, Mr. Rodriguez. We have the same enemy." The guy didn't move, just stood there.

"I'm not, so what?" Not even underlining his words by shrugging, Nines showed that he didn't care a second about what this ass had to say.

"Did you never think about why LaCroix is still in charge yet keeps an illegally sired fledgling so close to him? Please, you may be Brujah but not that dense." Shaking his head was the last thing the snobby asshole could do before the half-automatic weapon's hammer made a click and hailed lead straight into his head.

"Last chance, cape. Move aside," he ordered coldly. Ventrue were sure not easy to beat but that's the fun, right?

"That was quite rude of you." Sighing, the guy brushed over the hole in his head while the wound was slowly healing, pushing the bullet out of his flesh. "Seems like you don't know who I am and what position I inherited months ago. I'm Sir Richard Hargreaves, former Ventrue Primogen. Do I have your attention now, Mr. Rodriguez? I don't have much time, because there will definitely be a blood hunt on me at any minute." Yes, now he had Nines' attention. At least under those circumstances, otherwise he would mop the floor with the Blue Blood's face. "Now listen to what I have to tell you and listen close. I won't repeat it." And Nines listened but after all that his head spun around even worse than before.

"Do you think I believe this shit?" Snarling, he exposed his fangs and leaned forward, the barrel of his gun pressed tight under Hargreaves' chin. "I've really swallowed enough bullshit this night."

"But it makes sense, am I right?" He didn't smile, only looked serious. "This knowledge alone is the reason why I'm as good as dead. I have nothing to lose. LaCroix will spread that I'm with the Sabbat, but that's a lie. He wants to silence me so that no one will ever find out the truth. He doesn't want to lose face after this humiliation." There was no trust between the two of them. That was absolutely impossible of course. They'd just met for the first time, spoke for the first time – yet there was some logic in the words of the Ventrue which couldn't be ignored. Which made an absurd sense. "I know you will have use for this information and I don't pretend to sympathize with you but we share the same enemy."

"Of course this could also be a nice trap." He wouldn't swallow everything that was thrown his way that easily, but Nines had already made up his mind to dig further into it and find hard evidence.

"Naturally. It would be futile to deny it and I have no proof to persuade you of the opposite. It's up to you what you'll do with it. All I can say is that this knowledge is my doom, whether you believe my words or not. Besides LaCroix I'm the last one living who knows about it and that's not without a reason, Mr. Rodriguez." Ignoring the gun under his chin, Hargreaves made a few steps, passing Nines who never let him out of his cautious scrutiny. "Farewell, Mr. Rodriguez. I suppose we'll never meet again." Nines did nothing, only watched as the Ventrue left his sight after passing into another dark alley. _'Elders siring others, who sire again others to execute their plans.'_ Yes it made his head spin just to think about it and it fit. It fit those rich born asses of the Camarilla. At least Alex really did hurt clan Ventrue to the extent that they'd made such a risky maneuver. LaCroix really was more cunning than he imagined and he'd convinced the whole of L.A.! If what Hargreaves said was true of course. If it was...Nines felt how his bad mood was washed away by the mere possibility of it. He needed proof. As fast as possible with a rapid pace, he made his way to The Last Round. Damsel and Skelter would be fired up after hearing this news.

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AN: I have the feeling that in Schattenspiel weren't enough characters from the game and this is going to change in this story arc. At last that's what I plan to do...all I can say it'll take some chapters. You know how slow I am in pulling off the plot xD


	3. On the Catwalk

**Celeste:** Of course he only goes there to have a reason to be pissed (and to anger LaCroix, naturally), hehe. Nines and Hargreaves will be a very dangerous combination =)

Thanks **rednightmare **(I like Nines too. Just loves his cussing), **Zaekka** (aber es wird langweilig D:) and** Heartfrost**.

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Katherine Falkner sat in a small, windowless room in the Los Angeles Police Department. In front of her was an untouched mug of steaming coffee. The artificial neon lights were cold and besides a table, which the mug was standing on accompanied by an unused ashtray, there were only two chairs and one was occupied by the Ventrue, the other vacant. _'I must have a fucking problem magnet shoved up my ass_._'_ Perhaps she should've dug up her old good luck charm that was somewhere in one of the few boxes she hadn't unpacked. Good old memories. A lot could actually go wrong with a modelling job, hence the employer was a fucked up insane murderer who cut people's limbs off. She found Carson but he went straight out and called the police once Katherine set him free, after she'd snapped Gimble's neck with her bare hands. What else could she have done when an insane guy wanted to beat her to death with a severed arm? Shot him? Nah, waste of bullets. She could have knocked him out but that just now came into her mind. Noticing that she'd really changed a lot and a bit more mercy would have spared her all this shit, Katherine frowned. If this mess ended without her being sued, Katherine wanted to find some of her lost humanity if it was possible at all, as even Mercurio had mentioned that she was more cold than before in emotional terms. The door swung open and a woman walked in. Short cut black hair, dark skinned and dressed casual in jeans and a jacket. Your typical detective in her early thirties. You could not say that the officers threatened her badly; they were only distant but respectful. Was it really due to the fact that she'd stripped off some of her humanity? Carrying a clipboard with notes and paper in her hands, the detective dragged the vacant chair back to sit down.

"Miss Katherine Falkner, citizenship German and born August the 16th 1977 in Trier. Former soldier in the German military, then taking an office job and now employed at the LaCroix Foundation as a personal security guard of Mr. Sebastian LaCroix himself up till she lost this job three months ago." Thoughtful she put down the clipboard with the information and looked at Katherine. "Please excuse the long delay but it was not easy to verify even this little crumb of data about you, especially the last one, so thank you for your cooperation. I'm Detective Skinner." Reaching out a hand, Katherine grabbed it and shook it.

"Would it disturb you if I have a smoke?" Yes, she'd started to smoke. As a vampire you couldn't become addicted by simply inhaling it, but it evolved to some kind of bad habit like chewing on fingernails for other people. Dean really started something.

"Not at all." Leaning back, Detective Skinner smiled. "Gimble really picked the wrong person to dismantle. So you were the bodyguard of the rumoured and famous billionaire Sebastian LaCroix. He's really a mysterious person, never showing up in public and information about him is hoarded like a state secret," she mused and brushed over her chin like she had some kind of imaginary beard, while Katherine lit her cigarette and took a breath. "A very secretive family."

"He cherishes his privacy and I don't want to sound rude but I have no idea how this is related to the case, Miss Skinner." Did the detective really expect her to babble about LaCroix's private life? She barely knew it herself; well except for the fact that he was a 200 year old, blood-sucking undead vampire, who'd inherited the highest position in this city with the title Prince of Los Angeles. But he had family? Well, she never delved into his affairs and the idea to do so was uncomfortable. Katherine knew there was a Dwayne LaCroix in the tower somewhere, because Chunk mentioned it during her first visit, however that was all she knew.

"Sorry, it's the job. I tend to sniff around and it's rare - even for Los Angeles - to meet someone who was close to such a famous and rumoured person." If she only knew how close! Katherine sighed and let some of the ash fall into the ashtray. Well, close you couldn't call it. It was more a kind of business relationship, though she'd kissed him two times and was still paying an ungodly amount of money for it; however, she had to admit that she kept the second one as a very good remembrance. Actually she really enjoyed it and he hadn't refused it either. Of course only because of the money but women can dream, can't they?

"The fascination with rich and mysterious men," Katherine chuckled softly, a bit amused. "But I don't want to get sued, you know?" Seemed like she made the detective more curious than was good for her, because it was nearly uncomfortable how friendly the detective was being. Katherine tended to dominate her a bit. God, LaCroix had really rubbed off on her.

"Of course." Smiling, the clipboard was shoved toward her. "Please take a final look at your testimony and sign it here." Pointing at the spot with her forefinger, Skinner showed Katherine where she had to sign and upon re-reading it, Katherine felt the staring glimpse of the human.

"Is there something wrong with my face or do you want my coffee?" Nonchalantly demanding an answer, Katherine didn't even look up from the paper, continuing to check it for mistakes and noticing how the detective made a surprised expression.

"Ah, sorry. It's again the job, you know? The mimic reveals a lot about a person so I made it into a kind of habit." The decision had been made to make 'friends' with some humans and taking Mercurio's advice into account seek out human company, else she would have a hard time blending in and the last thing Katherine wanted was to violate the Masquerade, giving LaCroix another reason to chop her head off. Did she forget to blink? Hopefully not.

"If you want to know things about me, you could just ask. It's not like I share the same habit as my old employer." A human would smile now, right? And perhaps this was a good opportunity to observe humans so that she would be able to blend in like before. Taking the blue plastic ballpoint pen, Katherine signed the paper with a fluid motion and shoved the clipboard back to the detective. "If that's all may I leave now detective? I'm really busy." Not to mention she needed to report back to Arthur. Carson wouldn't be coming back so he would be in need of a new bounty hunter, and even if she encountered psychopaths it was a job Katherine was interested in and appealed her taste. Considering the fact that she was a vampire with the ability to dominate humans, it should be a walk in the park.

"No, that's all Miss Falkner. I thank you for your cooperation." Both women stood up from their chairs and Katherine took a last breath from the cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray. "I will lead you to the exit." Holding the door open, the detective gave her a slim smile which Katherine tried to return, but such small mortal gestures felt a bit alien to her. That's why she omitted it and gave Skinner just a small nod as a sign of appreciation for holding the door open, and she could not help but muse again about how she'd changed in this short time. Well, it wasn't really a short time, at least in Kindred terms.

The police station was busy, crowded with a lot of humans even at this time. In bright, artificial neon light cops were walking around with paperwork, on the phones or simply working at their computers, sometimes navigating a stoned junkie or drunken bum through the corridors into the cell block. The detective handed the clipboard to another officer and accompanied Katherine again.

"I'm still not getting used to it, that L.A. is alive even in the night." It was more a phrase murmured to herself but the detective caught it rather fast.

"It's not the prettiest face of the city, but you'll get used to it in time." _'Like you know,'_ was the first thing coming into Katherine's mind upon hearing those words. "But even I think that sometimes everything can get worse, like when you catch freaks like Gimble and on top of that the serial killer who's terrorizing the city's inhabitants." Katherine had read about those incidents in the L.A. Sun. Brutally slaughtered, the corpses were just piles of bloody flesh rather dead corpses.

"It's like everything here goes to hell." Earning a strange look from the other woman, Katherine passed the main entrance with her, standing now in front of the building. She rustled around in her pocket to reach for her cigarettes, and had already put one in the corner of her mouth as she searched for the lighter when a most disturbing sight interrupted her actions. Looking down the stairs which lead to the streets, someone was parking a black limousine with tinted windows.

"Would you like to accompany me for a late snack? I know a nice diner in Santa Monica. My partner normally comes along, but he's on holiday." The invitation received no attention and still holding the lighter near the cigarette, Katherine just stared down at the limousine.

"I think I have to refuse." The thoughts in Katherine's brain were spinning in a small streak of panic. Skinner next to her looked a bit surprised.

"Why's that?" It sounded a bit offended but in a fake way, however the vampire shook her head.

"I'm sorry, but I have some urgent appointment." Putting the lighter down, she gestured in the direction of the limousine, where a chauffeur stepped out from the driver's side and opened a door which faced the police department. Katherine couldn't tell if she was relieved or horrified that no one stepped out.

"It's just a limousine. Why should it come in between you and a nice snack?" Of course this was leaving a very strange impression on people who didn't know to whom this car belonged. Sighing heavily, Katherine stuffed the unlit cigarette back into her pocket. The smile on her face now gave away that she was in trouble, but the detective was rather confused about the behaviour of the other woman. Walking down the stairs and coming nearer to the chauffeur, Katherine could not help but to clench her hands.

"Miss Falkner?" With educated courtesy she was addressed by the chauffeur who was without a doubt a ghoul.

"Yes, that's correct." The cogs in her brain were already working and analyzing the possible scenarios, starting with the worst.

"Mr. LaCroix demands to speak with you." There it was. The sentence which doomed her. After all these months he sends his little Bobby-Car to pick her up in front of a police station. Oh this was bad.

"I'm again sorry that I must decline your offer, Detective Skinner, but you see, there is some...urgency to this engagement. You didn't call the LaCroix Foundation, did you?" It was more a question to strengthen a theory, rather than an accusation.

"Yes I did to confirm your information and it was a helluva effort to get them. Will that get you into trouble?" Asking cautiously, the detective at least didn't look embarrassed, showing now a bit of the hardened personality she probably needed as a female detective in this city.

"You've just done your job." By chance Mr. LaCroix needs the Kraut again. Why always assuming the negative? Well, it was LaCroix she was dealing with after all but no need to yell that out loud for the whole of L.A. to hear. "So enjoy your snack." That was all she had left to tell the friendly detective who was a bit too curious for her taste. Vanishing into the limousine and protected by the car's door against further questions or small talk, Katherine leaned back into the soft seat, inspecting the lavish innards of the limousine and she was nearly able to smell the most familiar cologne of the Prince. It reminded her of the feelings she suppressed for him and how hard it would be to actually face him again.

And not to jump at his neck, stealing his sweet and delicious blood.

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AN: Mhm after abusing those character-building sheets rednightmare sent me, I have really no idea what kind of music theme would fit Katherine. I think it's EDITORS - An End has a Start.


	4. Place of Safety

**Celeste:** Acting human was beaten out of her during her little Sabbat flirting. Now she has the bill to pay for it and it will get her into more trouble of course. Like Sire, like Childe to quote Strauss (and LaCroix indirectly).

Thanks to **Zaekka **(oh..du hast mir jetzt eine Idee geliefert), **Heartfrost**, **Topgallant** (It's all the Sabbat's - and LaCroix's - fault that she's chaging), **rednightmare** (down the road is...trouble I guess).

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Things weren't going to be as complicated this time. Katherine had thought a lot these past nights about how to encounter LaCroix in person, just in case. It was natural that she wouldn't be able to avoid an encounter with the Prince of Los Angeles so it was better to be prepared, and watching the passing lights of the city she recited everything in her brain. Go in, don't say more than "Yes, sir" and "No, sir" – well, perhaps some more – but then again just treat it like business. He was her boss so to speak, even though she was not employed by the LaCroix foundation and violating her own policy was the reason for this mess. Mixing up emotions with the job was a strict no-go, however Katherine didn't keep a cool head and screwed up. Well, life – or unlife – goes on.

Unfixing her gaze from the window and looking into the innards of the limousine, she wondered if there was actually some blood in the mini-bar. Such vessels would have a mini-bar, right? At least in the movies they showed it that way. Without a doubt the blood would be of a much better quality than that from the Santa Monica blood bank or even from Mercurio. First one tasted clinical, sterile. Like sanitizer had been mixed into it, but the second one was much better. Still the blood she received at the tower was magnificent in comparison; sometimes Katherine thought she could taste real food from it. Restraining herself, she changed her mind. Would be a bad idea to perform a raid on the Prince's fridge. Just God knows how much money he would charge for it and she still had no idea why LaCroix demanded her presence, even sending his personal Prince-mobile. Focusing again on the window, it told her that Downtown had reached all its summertime glory. Never having been fond of heat, Katherine was glad to not be able to sweat anymore, and was only able to recognise the temperature by the clothing of passing peasants. All were dressed in light clothes and short t-shirts, and being a vampire summer had a new downside: the nights were shorter, and the days were longer. It appeared to her now like wintertime, so to speak, but back to focusing her mind on the tasks at hand. Stepping out of the limousine whose door was opened by the chauffeur and entering the lobby of the Venture Tower, Katherine was greeted by a most familiar face she hadn't seen for months.

"Good evenin' there, missy! Been quite a while. Mr. LaCroix said I should send you up immediately. So have a nice meeting up there. Seems like he's quite busy this night." LaCroix was always busy.

"Seems like nothing has changed." Ignoring Chunk's struggle with dripping burger sauce she continued on her way up to the penthouse. The doors to the Prince's office were closed and since she was expected there would be no problem stepping in like she always did, opening one of the golden doors. Here also nothing had changed, but loyal Mr. Koch was hanging like a trophy on the wall to the right, where the sarcophagus had been standing and it caught her attention first, triggering a small wave of sadness. The rifle could be put to better use and thinking about the money she'd spent on Mr. Heckler made the feeling even worse, nearly turning it into some sort of anger. Upon stepping further into the office and closing the door behind her, Katherine now spotted LaCroix sitting behind his desk. In front of him was another Kindred, or so she assumed without knowing, as that was as much as she could judge from seeing only his back.

"This is all for now. You can leave and think about the consequences of your failed assignment. I'm feeling merciful just this once." Intense staring hit the other Kindred, who seemed to want to spill words out of his mouth but was silenced before he even had a chance to. "Show him out." Coldly ordered, the bulky Sheriff moved and grabbed the pawn. Katherine was now able to see his face, disfigured by fear, silenced by fear. She should have paid more attention to exactly what Dean and James had told her about LaCroix's new agenda. It was kind of unsettling and she could not help but be reminded of her conversation with the taxi driver. "Where do you feel safe?" he'd asked and her answer was, "At the side of Prince LaCroix." She did not feel safe at the moment. _'Just stick to the plan and nothing can go wrong. Hopefully.'_ Positioning herself at the spot where the poor guy cringed once before, Katherine stood at attention. She knew LaCroix was quite pleased with a military attitude.

"Miss Falkner," he mused and leaned back in his seat. "It has come to my attention that you were confronted by the mortal law. I hope there aren't any problems with the law enforcement."

"No, sir." It was only bad timing and she hadn't committed a crime. Grabbing a glass next to him which was filled with red liquid, he stood up and walked over to one of the huge windows.

"I see. You must understand that I would appear in a false light if my protégé were to have problems with the law enforcement." Upon the Sheriff's return, the Prince took a sip out of the glass and Katherine had to swallow. Without any doubt it was blood of an exclusive kind and just drinking it in front of her was kind of cruel in her opinion. He must know it.

"Of course sir." It was something Katherine had expected, so it didn't hit her unprepared; and besides gaining her confidence back by being honest with herself about some topics, she didn't feel nervous at all, only focusing on the business aspect of this meeting and expecting no idiotic actions driven by emotions. Analyzing the details more distantly, Katherine realised that the Prince was dressed in a very well-known suit: grey and pin-striped shirt, dark grey tie and black suit. It felt like being thrown back some months, back into the days of October.

"Mercurio told me that you're living in his place. Is this correct?" Turning around and walking back to his desk, LaCroix placed the glass back on it and focused on her face.

"Yes, sir." Without a doubt, the Prince would now hold her up with a speech about Ventrue dignity. That it did not suit their blood to live with a ghoul. Katherine agreed, but it had some advantages she didn't want to miss at times like these, like protection during the day and blood when she needed it badly.

"You should be in a better haven. Your subsequent behaviour and style of living: Everything falls back on me and living in such a small place with a ghoul is not decent enough for you." Oh well, she could always rob a bank but then that was, of course, in conflict with the laws of the mortals. Begging for money was also not by any means an option.

"Yes sir!" Perhaps there was a way for her to get a room in the Empire Arms Hotel, but how? As room service? It was a loop of doom and Katherine again was reminded of how spoiled she was during her time in the Venture Tower, getting used to the luxury the Prince's haven offered. Circling to the front of his desk LaCroix stepped slowly toward her, no emotion on his face which could give away if he was satisfied or not by her response. Usually his eyebrows knitted together when something wasn't like he wanted it to be. Who was that guy anyway? She didn't know that man, what had he wanted here? Where was he? What had a stranger been doing here? Her arms couldn't move as fear crawled up her stomach, choking her throat. Adrenaline rushed through her veins and a cold sweat covered her warm skin, smelling blood-coated breath.

"But that's not the sole reason why I demanded your presence. The Kindred you saw earlier: Kill him. His name is Kent Alan Ryan of clan Toreador. That is all you need to know." Wanting the breathe, Katherine spat out a choked gasp because it was something human. Something her dead body wasn't prepared for and not because of LaCroix's words. In fact she'd only barely followed them, her main attention drawn to something else. She felt tremendous fear. "I thought you're used to killing." Standing in front of her, the Prince gave her a keen look.

"I am sir." And it wouldn't be the first time that she killed because he'd ordered her to, but her major concern was not to tremble at the moment. Scrutinizing her hands to be sure that it was impossible for them to be covered in sweat, or to also be warm. Those things were human and not vampiric, but why were those feeling rising just now?

"Good. But don't be bland and don't do it in the open. He just needs to vanish more or less. I expect from you a lot more than dim-witted actions." A double-edged sword, Katherine now realised. LaCroix would know if she failed and lied to him. He still didn't trust her. "Why are looking scared?" The airy indifference in his voice indicated the irrelevance of the question, but nonetheless she felt embarrassed. Straightening her stance took great effort but Katherine managed it bravely, not letting it appear like a forced motion.

"Bad blood, sir. I think one of the humans I've fed upon was taking some meds." Telling him that she'd just had some kind of hallucination would have been stupid and did not suit a Ventrue. So going with the excuse of low quality blood was more bearable, like the scolding which would follow at any second.

"I reassert that your lifestyle does not suit your blood. Feeding upon...drug addicts is disgusting! Is this understood?" It was not a suggestion anymore, it was an order. His now nauseated snort stressed the unmistakable. At least he didn't discover the lie but it disturbed her how low LaCroix thought of her, not doubting that she fed upon lowly humans. She had her standards of course and they were not low.

"Yes sir." Also proving the theory that she always getting in deeper trouble when being confronted with the Prince, Katherine had no option but to obey. How to solve the problem would later break her brain. But begging for money was still something she would not do by any means.

"Excellent, you may leave." Sitting down again behind his desk, LaCroix didn't even look up at her like she was already gone and Katherine was thankful for that, nearly running out of the office and noticing that her self-control was at its limit. Closing the door, she allowed her pudding-like legs to tremble. What had this been? Out of the Prince's presence, she had the freedom to dig deeper into it, grasping the impression that it felt like something she had felt before but when? Where? In what relation? Never before had Katherine had some sort of déjà vu but this certainly felt like one. It just didn't make any sense. Should she ignore it? No, however it should not make any effect on her job. She did not want to make the same mistakes again, strictly separating business and personal emotions, with the business coming first to reduce the possible trouble she could get into. Still her legs were weak and a second scrutiny of her hands revealed that they were shaking, gruesome fear lingering somewhere in her innards. Those emotions were so fluidly knitted into her usual thoughts earlier that Katherine wasn't able to figure out what could have triggered it. Was it LaCroix? A possibility. Closing her eyes, she could remember the smell of blood, carried by cold breath. And upon analyzing it further, her head started to hurt. Well, this set her on alert. Was it still the dementation or was it something else? However, she had business to do and that came first.

Time to find that Toreador, despite having no idea where to start her search. Perhaps it was a good idea to visit Arthur first and tell him that he was in need of a new bounty hunter, who'd just stepped into his sweet, dirty little office. And who knows? Perhaps he'd have some information about a Kent Alan Ryan. Unlikely but not impossible, else she would give The Asylum a shot. As far as Katherine knew, Toreador were very close to humans, at least those of the Camarilla. Else she would just visit some more meeting points of L.A.'s Kindred until she found a trace.

Subtle of course like LaCroix wanted it.

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AN: I'm a slowpoke...why? Zaekka gave me Mass Effect as a gift and now I'm all stuck in typical RPG addiction. So the next chapter will be a bit delayed.


	5. Bloodhounds

**Celeste: **Yes it IS bad. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa! And as if this wasn't enough, Vivienne's computer had to die and she need probably a new one.

Thanks** Topgallant **(you really missed LaCroix, eh? Hehe) and **rednightmare **(I agree. Kent should have been there) **for the reviews! You guys rock!**

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At last the Ventrue was pleased with herself. Katherine managed to remain more or less calm in the Prince's office and even got an assignment which seemed like a walk in the park. Even LaCroix's scolding hadn't been worse than she imagined. Finally things perhaps were going for the better and all her former considerations now sounded silly to her, because LaCroix surely had more important things to do than play her personal devil in this unlife. However this didn't mean she'd let her guard down when dealing with the re-established dictator of Los Angeles. Her new assignment was just too good a reminder not to cross him anymore in any way. Katherine only needed to be patient; hence time was not an issue anymore only surviving.

Arthur Kilpatrick's Bail Bonds was deserted this night like always with him being the sole person in the small office. Arthur could be Chunk's brother with regard to his opulence in body mass but that was all the resemblance they both shared.

"Ya' got any news on Carson?" Eagerly he glanced over the frame of his bug sunglasses. If he wasn't running this place, Katherine could imagine him in the role of a pimp, driving an old Manta.

"Bad news actually: Carson's quitting. I freed him out of a cell in Gimble's own personal horror dungeon but a bit too late. He already lost his trigger finger." Waggling with her own trigger finger, Arthur followed the motion with a sad face.

"Well, hell. That leaves good old Arthur in hot water. Carson was a good hunter. Sad that he's quitting but what's a bounty hunter without his gun?" Sighing and looking desperate, the huge man fell into his chair which ached under the heavy burden. "Say, sugar: ya interested in a job? Well it's not a job 'cause ya not licensed and all but until I get a new bounty hunter ya'll be pretty fine for that." Licensed? Welcome bureaucracy! She was actually surprised by the fact that you needed some kind of license for that in a country where everyone was free to wield guns.

"How about paying me first, then telling me about that license and then about the job you have." Not that she wanted to decline it. The hell she would! But after LaCroix's warning it was better not to have problems with the law, so she wanted to be cautious just in case.

"Oh, uh, yeah...yeah yeah. Sorry about that, uh. Here ya are." Reaching for a drawer in the desk, Arthur pulled out some sweet green bills which Katherine grabbed with a cold smile, counting how much it was and stuffing them into her pocket. 200 dollars. Well not bad for a night but still far away enough from wealth.

"And now about the license." Leaning on the desk and crossing her arms in front of her chest, she guessed through what she'd need to undergo for this license.

"Yeah, yeah. I forgot you're not from here. Well ya need to be approved by the government to get into the bounty hunter business. Taking education courses and all that." Rustling around in the mess on his desk to find paper and a pen, Arthur wrote something down. "Ya seem not dumb sugar, so I guess ya already have some kind of bachelor's college degree and according to ya accent that's also a fulfilled point. Ya got some felony convictions?" Katherine shook her head, but was now reminded that she dropped out of the military before her contract ended regularly. Only with a dirty trick was this possible but this was not the time to let thoughts wander around. "Perfect! Here is the information about the courses and stuff. You got balls – uh, pardon the expression missy – but you'd make a good bounty hunter." Smiling broadly with his yellow teeth, Arthur shoved the note toward her.

"Call me sugar again and I'll be the sugar grain which causes deadly diabetes." Her smile was poisonous and cold, indicating that she was badly offended by being nicknamed that way. It felt like a disgrace and Katherine had developed a thin hide for such things. Either that or it was the European mentality kicking slowly back in.

For some seconds, Arthur's face was frozen with a mixture of a surprised and irritated expression on it.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry for that...uh how did ya know I have diabetes?" Well, she had not known that which surprised Katherine but she wasn't showing it. "As you said: I'd be good in this job, so tell me about the little worry you have and I'll see if I can solve it." It was a bit hard trying to sound forgiving; she did not want to piss off a potential new boss, because one boss was already pissed off to the bone.

"Great, great. Alright, the guy's name is Mike Durbin. Goes by the name 'Muddy'. His girlfriend put up for his bond. She lives over there above Trip's Pawnshop. Her name is Marian Murietta, but I haven't been able to get in touch with her." Upon leaning back his enormous mass, the chair ached again like it was going to break at any minute.

"What's his record?" Hopefully not cutting off limbs or something or even worse: his girlfriend was the psycho.

"Some years ago he was charged of manslaughter but he got acquitted, else only small time stuff mostly. If ya want more information, just use the database on the computer over there." With a small nod to the side, Arthur pointed his double chin to a dirty old computer behind him on the left. That was nice! So she could also look up potential information about that Toreador if there was any and didn't need to ask. "Be careful. You're not licensed and if anything bad goes down, I don't know ya, ya hear me?"

"Sure, no problem Arthur." Stuffing the note into the same pocket where the green bills had landed, Katherine's eyes were already locked on the computer, whose old clumsy monitor awakened as she moved the mouse. It took several seconds for a screen to show up with an alphabetical index. _'Let's see...would be A for Alan and if that's not the case I'll try the R...'_ Clicking and concentrated, her pale fingers rushed over the keyboard. Katherine wasn't a computer specialist but she was used to them of course as long as she didn't need to hack a password or something like that. _'Bingo!'_ Right in the A-section, the entry 'Alan Ryan, Kent' popped up and she selected the data.

_Kent Alan Ryan_

_Bond written 10/26/04 – Robbery – Sexual Harassment. Case #5874696 Bond Amount: 5.000$_

_Note: Smeary wannabe Playboy and pretty strange. Regular in 'The Last Round'. Don't go in there! No money's worth that._

Staring at the note, Katherine now understood why LaCroix wanted him dead and why it was her task to assure it: wandering into The Last Round would be...fun to say the least. '_Oh crap this is a hell more complicated._' So his name was all she needed to know? Well thanks! Asshole...but there must be some way and Katherine was determined to find it; however, walking straight into The Last Round was out of the question, so she needed a plan. Head him off? It would be fishy if the Prince's protégé lingered around near an Anarch bar. There was a solution but Katherine was not able to find it yet, so she decided to head over to the dirty holes which were called apartments above Trip's, giving her former neighbour a friendly visit.

It smelled rheumy in the floors above the pawn shop even during summer, sometimes stale and dirty even that close to the sea, though Katherine never liked the salty, cold sea. With little effort the room of Maria Murietta was found, right next to the dirty Camarilla safe house which would've been better off called a Camarilla garbage dump for unwanted Kindred. An old issue from the L.A. Sun lay on the floor and the Ventrue gave it a small glimpse.

_Carnival of Death!_

Written in big type, the headline was of course eye-catching. Beneath it was a gruesome and bloody picture of a corpse, hanging from a streetlight, strapped by its wrists giving the impression it was being shown off on purpose. Without a doubt L.A. was really a swamp for all that's lunatic. Glamour seemed not far away from horror like this, or you could blame it on California being an Anarch Free State.

Raising her hand, Katherine knocked her knuckles against the wooden door, waited a bit and knocked again, however only silence was there to hear. _'Great.'_ So Maria Murietta wasn't at home. But Katherine didn't want to wait until dusk and with her luck the woman would return by day for sure. So what now? Looking nervously to the left side where she came from and then to her right out of the window, making sure no one was there, she grabbed the door knob and tried to turn it. Closed. What else? If she could pick locks it would again come in handy, on the other hand she could take it off its hinge with a kick but that would alarm the neighbours for sure. And who said she would discover something in there? Staring once more at the floor she saw something moving behind the corner where the stairs made a kink to the left, leading out of the building. Was that imagination or her eyes playing tricks on her? Ventrue were paranoid and Katherine had started to cultivate this inheritance of her clan. Walking slowly to the corner, she gazed down the stairs into the small entrance where the mailboxes were, cautiously scrutinizing the area and its few shadows. There! Was there something moving? How could someone hide in this small area? Oh, of course.

"You are there, I know it. " Pulling out her gun, she aimed at the empty space. No response. "I'll perforate the area until I hit something." And she unsecured the gun.

"All right, all right dammit!" a scratchy female voice responded. "No need to go on a rampage." Suddenly a Nosferatu stood leaning against the mailboxes with a sour face. "Do this Imalia. Will be fun Imalia and you won't do something stupid Imalia. Fuck you Gary." Without a doubt she sounded very pissed. Only a second later Katherine would have thought it was only her imagination, and it was certainly obvious that it caught her by surprise to be right. "Oh no, don't say it was just luck?" The Nosferatu – probably her name was Imalia – threw her hands in the air and grinded her yellow, deformed teeth. "Gaahhhh!" Snarling out her frustration, she sighed heavily after that.

"Why does Gary have an interest in spying on me?" Well, there were various reasons for it, like being the Prince's protégé, possible secret and important assignments the Nosferatu Primogen would certainly love to know of.

"For information, dumbass!" Viciously those words were spat out.

"Oh thanks Captain Obvious, or shall I say Lady Sewer Rat?" No dirty Nosferatu was calling her a dumbass! Stinking sewer rat! "Then it's perhaps a good idea to ask Gary in person what he wants to know after I tell the Prince about this spying on his employees."

"Tattletale!" The high pitched voice was hurting Katherine's eardrums.

"Or you help me out for a short bit and I'll forget about it." A Nosferatu was a good bet, even Imalia who was a former magazine model most certainly had more knowledge of lock picking than someone like Katherine.

"Lemme guess: the closed door to Maria Murietta's apartment, right?" Imalia sounded skeptical, raising an eyebrow. "Do you think I can pick locks? Hell I'm a former star! I didn't need such things!"

"You're a Nosferatu, why ---"

"Yes! Yes! You're a Nosferatu, you can do all the dirty, illegal stuff, right? Stuck up Ventrue! I cannot!" Crossed arms in front of her chest indicated that Imalia was seriously offended. Well, seemed like Katherine needed some diplomacy, like LaCroix always did it: Be nice to get what you want and later on you can always stab them from behind.

"Look, excuse me for my rude words okay? I just don't like being observed." Who does? "Besides you know that it has been a frustrating night so far for me."

"You don't say..." The reply was sarcastic, and accompanied with an excessively fake smile of sympathy. "I never thought that the life of the Prince's favoured dolly is this boring without the Sabbat. Really, I'm on you for months and nothing happens. Gary is totally pissed."

"Well I can't you promise information about the Prince's secret agenda, because I don't know that either, but I'm on something." Finally holstering her gun, Katherine stepped down the stairs to look Imalia in the eyes on an even level. A small gesture, a sign that she didn't look down on her.

"Hunting kines doesn't sound like valuable information." That was right, and the Ventrue speculated on the fact that Imalia wasn't able to follow her straight into the Prince's office or even his building at all, but that they were haggling was a sign for a usable business. Seemed like Imalia was able to help her after all.

"Right but I tend to stumble upon things and besides the fact that I won't tell Gary or Prince LaCroix a word what do you have to lose? It's fair right? And you can follow me around if Gary still thinks I'm part of some big conspiracy. We could both gain something out of it." Still there was wariness on the Nosferatu's disfigured face, clearly stating that she wasn't quite convinced.

"I can follow you but knowing that I'm there you'll be able to hide the interesting stuff from me. So there's no point in that." She had an argument there.

"I know but still I won't say a word. Gary won't go batshit on you for messing up." Without any doubt it was surely unpleasant to piss off Gary Golden. Imalia was also not long in the 'Vampire business' according to her information. Katherine was able to hear her cursing about Tawni Sessions, wanting to find some dirty laundry about her. Katherine declined to do this because sneaking wasn't her métier. So Imalia was also more or less a neonate. Possible explanation for why she messed up too. "We're both not long in this; perhaps you still need help for that Tawni Sessions thing?" That was most certainly a weak spot.

"Don't mention that fat ugly-faced cow!" Bingo. "After that thing with the Prince cooled down I was on your heels! Still stuck watchin' the world kiss Tawni's big, fat ass."

"How does this sound: We'll go there and you'll be able to sneak in. I'll wait for you and won't run away. Place the cameras and stuff. I'm sure you don't need my help there. Those are humans and they won't spot you." Could never be a bad thing to have a Nosferatu on your side, more or less.

"Okay, that sounds good." A satisfied smile appeared on Imalia's face, exposing her teeth once more, only to remind Katherine that the Nosferatu's lips were somehow stitched a bit together at the ends. It looked quite disturbing. Imalia reached her a hand with long nails – more claws – and at first Katherine didn't want to grab it but that would be rude.

"Great, we have a deal." And she shook the disfigured hand; in the other one, Imalia waggled a key.

"Found it behind the potted plant upstairs." Katherine felt now like a dumbass, as Imalia had called her.

"Oh well, that makes it quite easy." Just for that she'd gambled so high? There had better be something in it!

The wooden door swung open, exposing a totally empty room. Only some old and dirty furniture was in there.

"Great, looks like she made a run." Sighing, Katherine wandered into the kitchen and opened some drawers only to discover that they also were empty.

"What about that? Are all Ventrue blind?" Turning her head around she saw Imalia who pointed to the blinking answering machine right in front of her, then pressing a button and a deep male voice came out of the crackling speakers.

"Hey, Maria it's Mike. Look I've got to hit Downtown for a few days, maybe a little bit longer. If Rheno calls, tell him to meet me down there. We've got something to discuss apparently. I'll be at Milton's place at the Skyline Lofts 2A. Sorry baby, I'll explain everything later." With a beep the message ended, leaving both vampires in brooding silence.

"Downtown, huh? So what you say? Are we off to go there?" Imalia frowned and her and tilted her head to the right.

"Since when is there a 'we'? And you promised to go with me to that ugly-faced bitch! Don't withdraw now or I'll make your life a lot more complicated." She really wanted Tawni Sessions down the drain.

"We'll go but I could miss Muddy. Besides it would be really a bad move for the Prince's protégé to break her word right? After I've got Muddy, we're off to Tawni." A last distrustful look and Imalia nodded.

"Well then stop chatting. We have work to do." Walking out of the apartment, Katherine fallowed her only to be left standing alone on the floor. Well, more or less alone. She knew Imalia was there, only not visible for the sake of the Masquerade. "And I want fifty percent of his bounty." Her voice echoed through the floor.

"No way! That was not the deal." What the hell was that now?

"I just made up my mind. We could be a nice coterie, don't you think?" Katherine had already formed one with Dean and James. It was more of a business relationship but it was a coterie fitting her blood: a pure Ventrue coterie! "Gary will cut off his sponsoring, so a nice little income wouldn't be wrong. I also prefer to shoot some nice photos but after Gary's makeover this would really suck." A rough laughter was heard and Katherine sighed.

"Only if you prove useful." If Imalia would just linger around and do nothing, there would be no payment. "Fifty-fifty is half of the money and half of the work."

"Gosh, you Ventrue are really a stubborn-headed bunch when it comes to money. All right fine. Strip off the former beauty of Hollywood." There was a bit of poison in her voice and Katherine could only answer that sentence in her thoughts as she walked through the dark alleys of Santa Monica to fetch the taxi in front of The Asylum. _'Tawni really doesn't look that bad.'

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AN: So I kept my promise and include more Bloodlines characters! Yay! Again, sorry for the delay. Let's cross fingers, that Vivienne's will be back soon, because I really don't want to publish uncorrected chapters._  
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	6. Muddy Blues

**Celeste:** She still has computer problems, so despite what I said last chapter, I'll publish an uncorrected one. Perhaps it has some advantages. Now you'll see what great work Vivienne is doing, hehe. So more Imalia/Kat bitchin' ahead!

**Thanks Topgallant **(I know, those chapters are rather boring, but it's all development the story needs) and **rednighmare** (If Kat's going to dance into The Last Round, shoots Kent-Alan, I think she'll be sent back to LaCroix in an urn) **for the reviews!**

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As usual things weren't going to turn out easy. It felt like an awkward RPG game where you had to run from location A to B, occasionally to C, to fulfill a mission. Katherine had to crawl with Imalia in tow through the vents of the building to reach Milton's apartment without demolishing the door. At least Imalia really worked for her money, appearing in front of the guard so that Katherine was able to knock him out from behind. Later nobody would believe that a monster had scared the shit out of him and made him pass out. He would be the laughing stock of the security. Anyway the paper chase after Muddy continued, after they found another message on an answering machine they went to a warehouse near The Last Round, and Imalia started her next barrage of hate against Tawni Sessions until they got out of the building and back on the streets where she had to keep silent so that the obfuscation didn't lift. Oh well, she'd considered only walking in areas where a lot of humans were so that Imalia needed to keep her ugly mouth shut. As soon as they reached The Last Round Katherine began to search for a suitable warehouse across the bar. It was found quite easily but upon opening the door, both vampires were set on alert. The smell of blood was overwhelming and reminded Katherine of some unpleasant remembrances about her last visit home.

Low pitched mechanical clicking indicated that she'd unsecured her gun, an old routine in such a situation, with Imalia shortly appearing and giving a nod and then swiftly disappearing into the corner of the floor, showing off her smooth and nearly catlike motions worthy of the star Imalia had once been in her mortal days. A beauty beneath the ugly appearance and bitchy temper. Katherine followed, not quite as elegant as Imalia and also less quiet than the Nosferatu. Her heels produced an eerie sound which echoed against the sparse grey walls and upon gaining sight into the warehouse, her lips thinned to a slim line. The torn body of a kine hung from a steel beam, which had entered his back and stuck out through his ripped chest. Blood dripped with fast frequency out of the wound to the ground, producing a rhythmic staccato with the other blood rivers originating from his headless neck. The next thing she spotted was a bum who cowered next to a box, teeth chattering and eyes widened in horror, focused on the torn corpse.

"Hey you!" The gun pointed at the horrified man. Better safe than sorry but Katherine didn't get a response from the startled human, and she realised that he was no danger. Stepping further into the hall of this bloody mess and avoiding stepping into blood stains or a blood puddle, she inspected the corpse a bit further. It seemed like the man was ripped apart by animal claws. Just like the man in the picture of the L.A. Sun.

"D-d-did you see that?" the bum finally whispered, his voice sounding ghostly and threatening to faint. It was out of the question that he was the culprit.

"That bloody mess? It's kind of hard to miss." Surprisingly her voice was calm, nearly cold. Well it was not a nice view indeed and she spotted now the head between some other boxes, but that was how things go. Katherine had accepted this some time ago and she was more concerned that this could be a huge Masquerade violation.

"He done tore him up. Right in two. Ripped him 'part like a rag doll." Okay, that really sounded like a violation.

"What have you seen, old man?" Seemed like she was cursed to stumble upon more complications even during a simple search for a kine.

"These two guys – the dead guy and the other'n – uh, they showed up. I been living here so I hid, I thought maybe they was owners or... or cops come to clean the place out." He caught and huffed, still his limbs were trembling as he reached for a bottle of cheap booze. "Uh, they was waitin' on someone. They was gonna do some kind of job they was sayin'. But the person they was meetin', well he was late, so the one guy leaves to find a phone and call him – the dead feller called him Muddy – and the dead guy stayed. Well, that's when the killer... yeah, that's when he showed up." The bum took a deep sip from the bottle and spilled some over his dirty beard and stinking clothes. Katherine wrinkled her nose in refusal. "Oh, that killer, he grew these claws... I swear it, I saw it. The dead guy went white, like he seen the devil, then the killer grabbed him around the neck an' lifted him up and started cursin' at the guy." Oh shit. A big juicy Masquerade violation and she was a Ventrue. It was her duty to cover up this mess.

"Sorry old man, but you've seen too much." The gun pointed again at the bum who stared at her in disbelief, his jaw opening and closing like a suffocating fish lying in the sand of the coast. It was the only secure way to make sure he wouldn't talk to anyone else about what he had seen. "I'm really sorry. Farewell." Indeed she was, however, there were rules to obey, rules to enforce. LaCroix taught her that clan Ventrue had to make those sacrifices to protect the Kindred's existence. The echo of the shot was nearly deafening, as the bottle of booze slipped out of the dead bum's heads and rolled away from him, leaving its contents on the ground.

"Shit! You just...damn! You just killed that guy without a blink! Why?" Jumping out of her obfuscate, Imalia looked first to the dead bum with the hole in his head and then to Katherine. The Nosferatu's expression was rather aghast.

"As I said: he saw too much. It would be risky to let him run around, even if he's a drunken homeless. That poor man is better off this way anyway." Living with the image of a human being torn apart was something no one should have to do, like her father did. She left Imalia standing at the spot, her deformed face showing pity for the dead human, while Katherine inspected the surroundings.

"No one would have believed him! You didn't need to shoot him!" Imalia turned around in anger and glared at the Ventrue.

"If you want to blame someone, blame the fucked up monster that did it!" Enough is enough and it was not something Katherine enjoyed; besides she never thought that Imalia would be so affected by this. Talk about rough shell and soft insides. "At least he had a fast death, not like that poor bastard up there." Giving a nod to the blood dripping corpse, Katherine sighed, raised her gun again and fired some bullets into the wall, next to the dead bum. Then she walked to another spot and repeated the action up to three times until the magazine was empty.

"What was that for?" Watching what the Ventrue did, the Nosferatu sounded calmer again. Seemed like Imalia wasn't the type to admit that someone else was right.

"It would be suspicious if a man with a bullet in his head is lying next to a slaughtered body. The police will immediately know that this was someone else, so I want to give them the appearance of an accident, like the people in here tried to defend themselves and accidentally shot the bum." A very stupid plan to distract the police, however better than not trying.

"Sounds logical." The words sounded dry as if Imalia tried to ignore their arguing.

"But I need to report this to the Prince immediately, after we find a clue for where Muddy fled to." Katherine reloaded her gun and holstered it again, before continuing searching but that was interrupted by Imalia, who held a key in front of her nose.

"Hollywood. Just where we need to go, but..." The key vanished from Katherine's sight and was put into the Nosferatu's cleavage. "...Don't try to run away after you report to LaCroix. I have the clue, you don't."

"Hey, I didn't want to do that. We're a coterie, remember? It was your idea and coterie members don't betray each other. You'll get the money." It was spoken with a bit of a scoff, but why should she stay polite when Imalia was just bitching all the time?

"Yeah, yeah...you're the Ventrue, not I." Oh bad excuse! Who sold the information about the sarcophagus to the Giovanni and made Katherine go on an epic search for that fucking thing? Right: Nosferatu.

"Oh come on! You're the information dealer who sells everything for money without the slightest sense of loyalty, so don't lecture me about betrayal. I stand to my word, I'm Ventrue after all." Holy mother of Christ! She was sounding like LaCroix. It was creepy, and pretty scary. "If we want to work together, we need at least some basic trust." Imalia raised an eyebrow, looking suspicious and snorted. Well, it was not like some sort of trusting the other one blindly, just minor basics. Of course they both would both stay on alert. "Keep the key if you like. Fine with me. Let's get out of here and to the tower." Hopefully no one had spotted her or such, so she tried to sneak out of the warehouse, not daring to light a cigarette before reaching the more crowded streets, avoiding the dark alleys and only walking at the main street to the Venture Tower.

Inhaling the last bit of the smoke, Katherine threw the cigarette butt into the ashtray which stood in front of the ivory tower. No smoking in the lobby! The things with the non-smoker areas in the States were much stricter than in Germany. It's a bit of an irony; the food was probably unhealthier than a stupid cigarette. Chunk was a great example of that.

"Evening Chunk. I want to speak with Mr. LaCroix." It was almost said in a bored tone with no smile for the blue blob.

"Well, Mifter LaCroif haf a gueft rightf now." Chunk had his mouth full with a space burger and while he spoke, some crumbs of the burger bread flew onto the desk.

"I'll wait outside until they are finished, just announce then." Chunk nodded and swept his mouth clean with a tissue, before he pressed the button. A rather annoyed "Yes?" was heard out of the speaker. "Miss Falkner wants to speak you, sir."

"I have no time for this. I'm busy right now. Send her away." There was silence for some seconds, where Katherine had not enough time to be pissed about the denial for audience. "Send her up immediately." Now Chunk and Katherine stared at each other, both in surprise and confusion and Katherine considered that this was the interference of his guest, but why?

"Who's that guest he has right now?" Most likely one of the Primogen.

"Ahh, his name was Jan Pieterzoon. Fine looking guy, just like Mr. LaCroix. They must have a business meeting I guess." Giggling dirtily, Chunk grabbed himself a fry and stuffed it into his mouth. Yes that old joke. Chunk told her once that he thought LaCroix is a bit 'different'.

"Just send me up." Must be because LaCroix is French, however it offended Katherine like it was a personal insult and she knew too well what the reason was. So she needed to stomp her rising anger towards Chunk down during the elevator ride, reminding herself that it was a bad idea to show emotions in front of the Prince. He would exploit them somehow, making her unlife kind of complicated. Something she didn't want to happen anymore.

On the way to the office Katherine encountered Cecilia, but surprisingly the princess ignored her, just walking past the Prince's protégé without one of her usual awfully cheerful smiles but it didn't bother her. Finally Cecilia had perhaps learned that this over-friendly attitude wouldn't bring her far in the society of Kindred, which was sad but true.

"I know why you don't like me." Raising an eyebrow Katherine turned around to Cecilia, who stared at the ground, hands clenching the expensive dress. "At first I didn't want to believe it but as I saw you and Sebastian after that Sabbat thing I couldn't ignore it anymore." Oh, she saw it. Well, explained why she barged in. Strangely Katherine did not feel any anger. It was replaced by cold calculations to explain the obvious in a nicely packed manner. The last thing Katherine needed was a damn drama and she certainly had better things to do than fight to win over a man she was unable to reach.

"So what?" Again she sounded bored, like it was not worth it to mention it. "I'm busy and the Prince granted me audience. It wouldn't be wise to make him wait." Unlike some other Ventrue, she didn't sit around the whole night in an ivory tower.

"I won't just sit and watch while you steal Sebastian away from me." Now Cecilia finally lifted her head to look at Katherine directly.

"Don't be silly. Relationship drama isn't something for a Ventrue to waste time on. It was only a token of gratitude, because he didn't order the Sheriff to chop my head off." Wow, she said it in a tone that nearly convinced herself of its sincerity. "So, if you'll excuse me, Miss Kingston." Giving her a sloppy curtsy, Katherine turned around to make her way to the office and make LaCroix not wait any longer.

"You're lying and you won't get me with that, Katherine! I still want us to be friends but that will be not the case if you lay your hands on Sebastian!" The thread of the words missed their aim. What a waste of time! Katherine knew where her limits were and LaCroix was simply off limits but it would be way too time consuming to explain that to Cecilia, besides she still didn't want to make friends with her. There were only two kinds of people: Useful and not useful. Cecilia was the latter one, and even as childe of the Prince, Katherine saw no value in her.

Entering the Prince's office she spotted first the guest, who was inspected with curious eyes. He had spiky flaxen hair which suited his deep blue eyes and was way taller than LaCroix who stood next to him. An archetype of Scandinavian stock, so to speak and an impressive sight in combination with the probably expensive suit which rivalled without effort the one LaCroix was wearing. In an instant, Katherine felt shabby and totally out of place. This time, she did not bow down in a sloppy manner and acted as the Decorum demanded, keeping a respectful distance from the two Kindred who stood near the fireplace.

"I thank you for granting me audience my Lord Prince." It was her who spoke first, not him. Else he would have lowered himself to her level and that was certainly a loss of dignity in the eyes of his guest.

"Mr. Pieterzoon, this is Miss Katherine Falkner of clan Ventrue, childe of ---" LaCroix paused, like he was thinking about something or as if the name Alexander would produce a bitter taste in his mouth. At last this was the signal that she was allowed to raise her head and look at them both directly. It was considered rude not to look an elder of the clan directly in the eyes. It was a sign of trust that they wouldn't dominate you. In regards of LaCroix it was a damn joke.

"Yes, I'm informed about the circumstances of her Embrace. Jan Pieterzoon of clan Ventrue, childe of Hardestadt." A not so deep bow was hinted. "You have met Beckett, is that correct?" A question Katherine really had not expected. Is that the reason why Pieterzoon prevented LaCroix from sending her away?

"Yes, I did, sir." Why lie, and of course the Prince probably told him that already anyway, but then again she was ignored.

"I thank you for the audience, Prince LaCroix and will leave now to investigate further on the whereabouts of Beckett." The last tribute of respect was of course reserved for the Prince but despite that, she still observed Pieterzoon as he left the office, only LaCroix's voice dragged her attention back to her initial reason for being here.

"I assume that your fast return is because of the fulfillment of your task." Walking slowly to his desk, LaCroix sat down on the chair and joined his fingertips as he always did when he listened carefully. Katherine followed a few steps but maintained a respectful distance.

"I'm still working on it, sir." A blond eyebrow was raised, however that annoyed reaction was at least something she expected.

"So, why are you then wasting my time, interrupting a meeting with an important Kindred?" Sure, Katherine was now even more curious as to who this Jan Pieterzoon was and why he was searching for Beckett. This was quite the piece of information Imalia would lick her fingers for.

"I encountered a grave Masquerade violation in a warehouse near The Last Round and ask for further instructions on how to deal with it, sir. The murderer everyone in the city is talking about seems to be a Kindred of clan Gangrel. I dealt with the only witness in appropriate manner but you ordered me to report any activities of mine which involve Kindred." So that she wouldn't cross his plans again of course. So he should not bitch about it and LaCroix was silent for a second, thinking again about it, but showed no further emotion rather than being annoyed by it like he would a fly harassing him.

"I give you permission to deal with Masquerade violations without needing to inform me of such rudimentary events. In this city it seems like every night the Masquerade is violated." It was an Anarch Free State, so they produced on purpose walking Masquerade violations just to annoy the Prince. LaCroix leaned back and gazed upon Katherine's frame. "As a sign of my goodwill and for your good behaviour, I will tell you that Mr. Ryan was responsible for finding out if the Southland Slasher is of supernatural origin." He snickered a bit amused and stood up, circling around his desk and Katherine noted that he made quite a habit out of it, but it seemed more like a nervous action. Perhaps just her imagination.

"Thank you my Prince." It was more random luck. How in all heavens should she have known what the Toreador's assignment was? Well, even a blind chicken can find a grain. At least she now had permission to hunt Muddy and the Gangrel who seemed to be connected in some way. "I have no further requests to make, my Prince." Hopefully Imalia didn't run off with her only clue and if she had done that, the Nosferatu would deal with a pissed Primogen and perhaps a pissed Prince.

"You may leave, but..." Slowly stepping towards her, LaCroix's gaze was still locked on Katherine, who stood bravely firm even as she felt his closeness. _'He just wants to manipulate you. That bastard knows what you feel and he exploits it. Remember that lady!'_ "...I want to remind you not to disappoint me ever again. Is that clear?" What now came made her need all of her self-control not to start babbling or stuttering like a mindless retard. He touched her neck and brushed his thumb slowly over her cheek in a nearly gentle manner. _'Manipulating! He manipulates you! It's a damn trap!'_

"Crystal clear, sir." It took great effort to say those words and not crumble under the intense staring of his cold grey eyes. Why was he addressing it again? She did all he demanded and executed the orders like he wanted! It felt like some kind of punishment for whatever wrong thing she had now done.

"You're smoking. A shame." Letting her out of his cold touch, LaCroix took his place behind his desk and pressed the button for the intercom, to give Chunk the green light that he could send in the next visitor if there was one. Whatever he wanted to achieve with his actions was past Katherine's imagination but one thing was certain: if his aim was to confuse her, he was successful and the first action of hers, as she stepped out of the tower into the streets of Los Angeles, was to light a cigarette.

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AN: And I proudly present you Jan Pieterzoon, a protagonist of the Clan Novel Series! His Sire Hardestad the Younger imposes as Hardestad the Elder, a legendary founder of the Camarilla who was diablerized by the Brujah Anarch Tyler. To cover that up, Hardestad the Younger slipped into the role of his sire but Beckett got wind of it and now Hardestad wants to silence him.


	7. Demolition Derby

**Thanks to Topgallant **(Jan LaCroix. Nuff' said *get's KO'ed with a baguette*), **Maellowyn **(of COURSE I am the finest here!), **Sazei** (dead? Me? Preposterous!), **Zaekka **(glares),** Celeste **(double-glares), **rednightmare **(Nosferatu BOOBS *get's KO'ed again*) and **Brittany** (Of course I'm different...wait a second! SHERIFF!) **for the reviews!**

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That was really typical for this damn lighter! Katherine needed a few tries before getting a flame which lightened the cigarette. _'Do not think about it, it's nothing, just pull yourself together.'_ Easier said than done, because she could still feel the cold touch on her neck and LaCroix's thumb on her cheek.

"You look like you have seen dead people." Snickering, amused, Imalia stood in a dark shadowy corner at the wall of the tower. So much for the coverage and the cogs in Katherine's brain began working eagerly on a good explanation.

"Don't tell me you didn't hear about the Prince's new methods of leading the city?" Like Dean and James told her: LaCroix had set up European standards in terms of ruling. In the States, the Princes tend to be less harsh with their rule enforcement, while in Europe they are damn strict, like LaCroix is now. "And his new alias, _le phénix rusé_. So don't tell me it's much of a surprise that it's a bit disturbing to meet the Prince." Throwing up her arms in a dramatic manner, Katherine took a breath and exhaled the smoke out of her nose.

"_Le phén_--- what? What is that supposed to mean? I never heard of that." Did the Nosferatu want to play a joke on her? Katherine was sure that this name had already replaced the nickname 'Jester'.

"_Le phénix rusé_ – the cunning phoenix. You must have heard of it." But Imalia's facial expression revealed that she really was hearing it for the first time. Oh Christ! Was it the dementation?

"I really don't know what you're talking about honey, but whatever. It sounds fancy and I think it's worth adapting. Good propaganda for the Prince could give us some benefits." Smiling widely, Imalia put her hands on her hips, while Katherine sighed in agony. Was she now responsible for this whole emperor thing? She'd just made her own delusion real and this alone was enough to give her a new headache for the rest of the night.

"Just do not mention that it was my stupid idea." Turning around, the Ventrue waved for a taxi. If LaCroix were to get wind of it, he'd probably punish her again with whatever his power-hungry ego could come up with.

Ah, Hollywood! Katherine really wanted to make a sightseeing tour for once, visiting all the famous places, but in the end she decided it was better to use the time to enhance her disciplines a bit. It couldn't hurt to improve her domination so it wouldn't fail on the more strong-minded humans she wanted to feed on, and besides James was kind enough to tell her about the third discipline of clan Ventrue in exchange for kicking some thugs' butt: Presence. After a month she finally got a grip on it but in her opinion it was pretty inaccurate. The individuals affected by presence were quite unpredictable but it was useful in combination with dominate. Still she preferred the exact and precise domination. Just like --- STOP! Bad thought. It was to jump out of the skin! She met the Prince only two times this night and everything of her regained and achieved self-confidence had been blown away like a sheet of paper in a tornado. She really needed to pull herself together, dammit! Better to go back to the important tasks at hand, and Katherine was surprised to find the key Imalia had lying in her lap. Smiling, she read on the key chain that it was from the Luckee Star Motel.

"Well, but first there's another task. I think the boy can wait, so it's better to visit the sweetheart." Muttering it silent, so that it seemed for the driver like she was thinking aloud, Imalia next to her probably understood what those words meant. It was not out of friendliness, but more to prove that she was trustworthy. Katherine would show the Nosferatu that they were on an equal level and that she would return every favour. At last it should look like that and making things easier for her later on.

"The bitch's apartment is right across from the Luckee Star. Just keep waiting there until I'm finished," Imalia whispered out of a dark corner as they arrived in Hollywood. Katherine simply nodded and took position in front of the motel, near a shadowy alley and lighted a new cigarette, so that she wouldn't look stupid. Furthermore she kept an eye on the people who were going in and out of the motel, always with a small glimpse of hope that she'd somehow recognise Muddy; however, Imalia was faster.

"Oh, I wanted to scratch that fat ugly whore's eyes out! But I want her to suffer! No fun without that." Clearly the Nosferatu's voice was again dripping with disgust. "Can you imagine that? She waggled her fat ass right in front of my face! I wanted to hurl!"

"Be happy she didn't fart." It was hard to suppress the amusement in her voice and Katherine started to laugh a bit to herself.

"Oh god, stop it!" Imalia was quite a riddle: showing so much concern about a bum but towards Tawni Sessions, she was very passionate with her hate. Guess it was jealousy and that was an emotion the Ventrue could perfectly understand. They were dead, but their feelings seemed to remain quite intact, and yet not consumed by the Beast. On the other hand this implied that even LaCroix had some feelings, despite his cold and manipulative nature. His obsession for the sarcophagus: wasn't that something human unlike Strauss had said? Was it really the Beast which consumed the Prince or was it despair like Katherine thought? She was drifting away again.

"Time to meet Muddy and get our cash." Flicking the cigarette away, it was finally time to bring this cursed hunt to an end! Speaking of cursed: it really was! Upon reaching the door of Muddy's room, there was a loud noise coming out of it. The breaking of glass, and a scream of horror. In a hurry, Katherine opened the door with the key and rested her hand on the gun. The room was dark and only a flickering bedside lamp on the ground gave off some light, showing blood stained walls. "Guess we're too late." She sighed and ventured further into the room, taking a look into the bathroom where the glass of a shattered window lay on the white tiles.

"That shitty Southland Slasher is starting to annoy me." Katherine couldn't agree more.

"At least the Prince probably wanted him neutralized. With Muddy dead, we could get a reward from him." They should have chased the killer, instead of chatting and Katherine felt like an idiot again.

"And we've got a clue." Imalia was like a dog with a nose for clues. The Nosferatu handed her a business card.

"Brother's Salvage? Isn't that in Santa Monica?" Oh god! More walking and they had this damn shit right at the start.

"You've got it honey." Giving her a wink, Imalia walked out of the room and vanished again. Great. If the damn Gangrel was there, Katherine would skin him! She was tired of running around, listening to Imalia's scratchy voice and complaints about Tawni. Well, she was useful, so things were bearable and by using the busy streets of Los Angeles her sewer rat company had to keep her mouth shut. She didn't want to point out that if her Tawni-hating hadn't gotten in the way, they would have caught Muddy alive. Katherine could have insisted they visit Muddy first. Her mistake and it made her a bit upset.

Gladly the huge gate to the car cemetery was open and everything seemed abandoned, only some dogs were barking. Hopefully they were locked away; else Katherine would just shoot them with all the suppressed anger in her stomach.

"You scout ahead," Katherine whispered silently and opened the door to the house. Nothing special, so she proceeded further in, the only possible route being to a door which led right into the backyard. Behind a fence the dogs they'd heard outside were strolling along it up and down. All of them started to bark as the Ventrue appeared, like she was some kind of offense. She'd never been good with animals but it was never this bad.

"Shut up, would you?" Hissing and baring her fangs, the animals weren't quite impressed, rather the opposite: they started to bark even louder. "Damn tykes!"

"Move!" Shouting over the barking, Imalia's voice was in a bit of a panic and Katherine turned her head around only to see an empty car frame flying in her direction. Finally the combat training took control of her actions, making her dive in a direction off to the side; however, she wasn't fast enough and an overhanging sharp piece of metal caught the fabric, dragging the helpless Ventrue harshly down. But a Ventrue wasn't easily pulled down by that. Not even feeling the slightest bit of numbness, despite hitting her head hard, Katherine jumped out of the entangled clothing and searched for cover.

"Only act on my signal." Wherever Imalia was, hopefully she was in hearing distance, because this graveyard was like a damn maze. Dark also, so Katherine had problems seeing properly but the killer seemed like it didn't affect him at all. Rushing from cover to cover in dark corners or niches, the cars flew in a precise arch right in her direction. At least those oversized projectiles were slow, giving her enough time to react properly without getting buried between the metal and ground like hamburger meat in between a bun. The first time he had her by surprise but that wasn't going to happen again and Katherine wasn't sure if she should give him credit for his stubbornness or think that he was plain dumb, ignoring the obvious fact that she wouldn't fall a second time for the trick.

"No! Back off, vampire. Stay the fuck back! I did nothing to you!" Gazing around a corner and seeing that the place was illuminated, she drew her gun but wasn't so reckless as to leave her cover.

"Well, let me count, asshole!" Did nothing? What a jerk! "First you killed my potential source for cash, you ruined my blazer and then you violated the Masquerade a dozen times. Any more questions before I blow your head off shitty Anarch punk?"

"You think your bullshit vampire rules mean a goddamn thing to me? Nothing matters to me. My work is done. I don't want to, but I'll fight you to the death." Daring to take another gaze toward where the voice of the man came, Katherine leaned to the side, spotting a man in a white muscle shirt and washed-out jeans.

"You think you're going away with murder? Afraid of an even fight, only able to kill weak kine? What kind of sad excuse for a Kindred are you?" He talked, that meant one logical fact: he was exhausted. Throwing around all those cars must have drained his blood, besides he'd had the opportunity to feed on Muddy and he didn't seem to be an old vampire. Leaving her corner and pointing the gun at the hissing killer, Katherine looked him straight in the eyes in case she needed to dominate him.

"What the hell do you care? I don't give a damn if you understand. So you can pass judgment on me? So you can decide if those murderers deserved to be gutted? You'll never know how it feels. NEVER!" Clenching his fists and shoulders shaking, he sounded very vehement and Katherine hesitated to simply kill him. Why? Because the cogs in her brain were set in motion. If people wanted to talk you could manipulate them. You just needed to search for a point.

"So you can decide it? Why? If they were murderers, you just lowered yourself to their level." Now Katherine knew what she was talking about. Wasn't it somehow the same case with her mother?

"My family, my children were butchered by small-time criminals just looking to rob a house, steal a car, take whatever. No sense to any of it, no plan, no ransom, just kill them because why? Because they were there, in the way? Not one of them paid. My whole family dead, my life gone. I'm supposed to let that happen!?!" Total hit in the right spot.

"So you butchered them out of revenge, killing them like pigs, endangering our kind. You feel better now? Is your family back alive, big bad vampire vigilante?" Lowering the gun, Katherine this time used a bit of her presence. James told her that people tended to lean toward your opinion more easily and started to like you somehow.

"I don't know. Butchering those bastards was the first time I've felt anything since my family was torn from me. I'm sure there are others out there whose crimes have gone unpunished." Oh dear, it still was pretty complicated.

"There are but you shouldn't meddle in mortal business, besides you have committed a crime yourself. Because you violated our laws, an innocent bum had to die. Is that your sense of justice? If you want to be of any use, obey the laws or be neutralized. I understand you, but it's not too late to try." Simple fact and she had just now a great idea.

"I'm supposed to owe allegiance to some vampire clan I know nothing about just because I was attacked and left to die?" A Caitiff. Great. He was garbage anyway, but even garbage could be useful.

"No, but to the laws of the Camarilla. I'm not the only one chasing you but most likely the only one who will listen to you. One of your hunters is a vampire, not a human. He committed the crime of robbery. Since he is a Kindred, we can deal with him. Subtle, not visible to mortal eyes. Are you with me or do you want to succumb to the Beast?" Suspicion was spotted in the Caitiff's fiery eyes and Katherine was about to eradicate it. "I'll give you a second chance. A new life, a reason but you need to listen to me, or else I can't protect you, understand?" And she needed a good bouncer. He looked like a good bouncer.

"Why should I trust you?" he snarled and the Ventrue holstered her gun.

"Because my family was in the way, just as yours was. I disobeyed the laws and they paid the price. My mother is dead, my father is a psychological wreck, and my fiancé is left with a broken heart and whatever. They are alive but for them I'm better off dead." It needed some time to get past her stubbornness, but Dean was right with his judgement that it was her own fault. Katherine had disobeyed an important rule of the Masquerade, however one thing wasn't past that wall of stubbornness: that LaCroix was also right. "Come on, you need to feed before we can go any further."

"You're kidding, right honey?" Her arms crossed in front of her chest, Imalia now made her appearance.

"What are you, monster?!" Hissing and snarling, the Caitiff made himself ready to attack the Nosferatu, but Katherine grabbed his shoulder.

"Hey! I may look not like a supermodel, but I was! And who's the monster anyway, butcher?" Pointing a disfigured finger at the aggressive vampire, Imalia took a few steps forward while the Caitiff made some backwards.

"I'm not kidding Imalia. He could be helpful and I understand why he did those acts. He deserves a second chance." For a second, Katherine thought Imalia was going to scratch the eyes out of the killer's face.

"What about your damn Ventrue speech of laws must be obeyed and blahblah? You killed the old man for this and now you're showing mercy for that damn Caitiff?" Well, the Nosferatu had a point.

"I'm not. He will work for it, right?" Katherine gave the man a short glance, hoping he was calming down. "If not, I'll deal with him personally."

"I'll stop it, I swear. My family won't be happy about what I've done." Actually he sounded very humble.

"I'll take care of him. He's lost, like I would have been after my sire's death. He will help us in bringing down someone who broke the rules." Imalia still looked pretty pissed but seemed to wager the new facts. "Okay, what's your name? I don't want to address you with Southland Slasher or Caitiff."

"Simon. Brother's Salvage belongs to me." Well that was a nice fact.

"Okay, the first thing is to let go of your past life. Nothing against memories but this here is connected to your mortal days. Sell it and a half of the money goes to Imalia and me to show us that you're really trying and because we need to live too. Without killing you, the Prince won't give us any reward." Thinking for a second that she'd gone a step too far too fast, Simon nodded to her surprise. "Excellent. I can give you instead a job as bouncer in my club and occasionally we'll be off to some duty to enforce the Camarilla's laws." If he ever were to think about it too much, Katherine could always blame his accidental embrace on the Anarchs.

"Okay, sounds fair, but I'll have an eye on him!" Turning around on her heels she did again her Nosferatu vanishing thing. It was fine with Katherine that Imalia had an eye on Simon.

"Well that was Imalia of clan Nosferatu. Never, ever talk to a Nosferatu about their appearance or they'll dig out dirty laundry about you you've even forgotten yourself." That's what made them powerful allies or enemies. No surprise that the Sabbat wanted to cut the Camarilla off from their source of information.

On their way out of the car dump, Katherine introduced herself, giving Simon some basics like Smiling Jack did with her after the theatre. Letting him feed without killing the human, some rules on how the Camarilla worked – despite Simon not having a very pleased face because they were strict – and finally asking him on the way to Downtown how he was able to aim so precisely in the darkness. It was a discipline typical of Gangrels. He didn't know the name, and Katherine didn't either but it already had her interested. So that's why Beckett had those strange eyes. It was some kind of irony, being a nocturnal predator and not able to see in pitch black darkness without the help of a discipline. Was it possible for a Ventrue to learn a discipline not natural to their clan? She needed to think about it and ask someone.

Finally arriving in Downtown and at The Last Round, Katherine's plan seemed solid to her.

"Simon, you're going in. Find a Kindred named Kent Alan Ryan. He's a Toreador with brown hair. Well-dressed and a pretty face. Lead him into the dark alley over there." One thing to make things waterproof was to dominate him now a bit. "Do not mention me." He was a Caitiff, so it must be easy to break his mind if the words were properly emphasized.

"I won't mention you," he said slowly and nodded.

"Good, and try not to be suspicious. It's Elysium so don't attack anyone. That's why we need him out here." If he were to fail, Simon would be blamed and not her. Good plan and it would be a shame if he died but that's how things were. It would also be easier if Imalia were able to follow him, however as a childe of Primogen Golden she would draw too much attention. Daring to venture into the wolves' den herself was for Katherine probably not healthy.

"Think that's a great idea honey?" It wasn't but at least it was their best option at the moment.

"Yes. I thought about all the options already. It's foolproof." Hopefully.

"Also Caitiff-proof?" Katherine gave Imalia a sharp look and the Nosferatu grinned.

"It'll work out, believe me." Waiting for their prey, Imalia and Katherine watched without pause the door of The Last Round and the Ventrue got a bit nervous after ten minutes without any sign from Simon.

"Think he blew it?" The silence was broken again by the Nosferatu.

"I don't think so. He had his instructions. Anarchs are all the-strongest-guy-is-right. If Ryan doesn't want to end up as a joke, Simon will be able to lure him out alone. Hey, there he is." And indeed it was only Simon and Kent Alan. Finally things were going as planned! Both were walking into the dark alley according to how Katherine wanted it to be. She followed them.

"Okay, you stinking ass. Come here. I'll take you out in seconds." Kent Alan had a melodic voice and a bright smile of confidence.

"Kent Alan Ryan. You betrayed the Camarilla by defecting to the Anarchs. The Prince didn't like that." Dragging out a gun faster than the eye could see, the Toreador pointed it at Katherine and Simon.

"Ahahah, I knew you would come. The Prince's little bunny...don't think I'm an idiot!" He bared his fangs, his face wearing an angry expression, eyes gleaming with the use of Auspex, yet still magnificent looking and swinging a brown streak of his hair back. Still, there was some nervousness in his voice. Who would think the Prince's protégé would have a Caitiff in her hands?

"You're alone in a dark alley, Kent. Surrender and we'll make it quick." Simon would rip his head from his shoulders and that's it.

"Fuck you, bitch!" Ever since Vick, Katherine had hated fighting against Toreadors. They were fast and so was Ryan, hailing a bullet into her direction which hit her stomach. Clenching her teeth, she ignored the pain. He would not flee!

"Don't let him out of here!" The Caitiff's fingers grew into sharp claws, blocking the way for the Toreador who constantly shot bullets into the Ventrue's dead flesh, then, realizing that Simon was more of a threat, changing the target. Katherine didn't want to waste her own bullets, knowing that the Toreador could dodge them. Finally Imalia made her dramatic appearance out of the shadows. Jumping furiously onto the back of Kent Alan, she tossed him into the dirty asphalt. Bones crunched at the hard impact and despite that, in a fast and swift movement, the opponent rolled on his back. Imalia attempted to charge at him again. Too slow.

"Simon!" Curse this swiftness of that clan! If Imalia had pinned him down, Kent Alan wouldn't have had a chance but now the barrel of his Desert Eagle was pointing right at Imalia's head; but Simon had understood Katherine's shout, sinking his claws deep into the beautiful marble face, destroying the beauty of it like a gone mad sculptor until it was no more than ash.

"That ass nearly blew my head off! Mine! I'm Imalia!" The Nosferatu kicked the ashen remains of the Toreador in a fury.

"See? Was a good idea to bring Simon along, wasn't it?" Shit! Her stomach hurt, but Katherine actually managed to tap Simon's back.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't want him to peel my face off with those nails. Aww, shit! I've got ash in between my toes!" Cursing a bit more, Imalia started to get rid of the remains.

"Hey, you're fine?" Simon reached a hand out to the Ventrue and supported her a bit. Those bullets really got her. If she had been alone, Kent Alan would have meant Final Death for the Ventrue.

"Give me a second to heal this mess." Fortitude was nice but what do you do against four straight shots from a Desert Eagle? Imalia's timing was perfect to say the least. "Good work everyone. Time to get the good news to the big boss." Not that she was all too eager meeting the Prince again, however the assignment was done, the treacherous Toreador dead and hopefully LaCroix would show some of his generosity in the form of green bills. Not to think about how she would look in front of Imalia and Simon if there were to be no reward.

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AN: Okay, you'll be the star od the next chapter, I swear! Now can someone please call the ambulance before I bleed to death? Please?


	8. Talons of a Phoenix

**Thanks to Zaekka **(LF healer/Venture Tower Raid, then go!), **Celeste** ( Funny, I had the same impressen while I re-read the chapter. Makes that LaCroix d'Artagan?), **Topgallant** (Simon is also having a key role in here) **Maellowyn** (Bitte wurde erhört, hehe), **Brittany** (Ever left wondering why the Sheriff doesn't say something? It'll be answered in a future chatper) and **rednightmare** (So we're three, ha! I would also say it's Three Angels for Sebastian. Let's put Simon into a mini-skirt!) **for the huge bunch of reviews! It's a huge motivator to write and I just can say again thank you with a new chapter, however, this chapter gave me a lot of a headache. It's a very thin line I walk there between my own set standards. I'm quite satisfied that the romance is a subplot, not the mainplot, well but read for yourself and I'm really deadly curious to know what you honestly think about it.**

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Finally Katherine had some time to admire her good work which would most certainly please the Prince. Simon was a very brooding and silent companion, a total opposite to Imalia, but that was fine with her. Sending him into The Last Round, pretending to be sent by someone who had information about the Southland Slasher; it was an obvious trap but now, as she thought about the motions of the dead Toreador, he must have been drunk or very desperate because he blew more than the Prince's assignment. His shots were imprecise, not aiming for her head at first. A mistake a fledgling would make but Ryan seemed like a more experienced vampire. Well, her luck. Why shouldn't she also have some for a change? It's not like the Ventrue was a lucky sod, however, since stepping under LaCroix's eyes in this getup would earn her a despising gaze. The ripped up blazer was strapped around her waist to cover some of the bullet holes, making the visible ones look from afar like burn marks. Simon in his oil covered clothes also wasn't very appealing and Imalia? Well Imalia was a Nosferatu, that's enough of a Ventrue reason to be despised.

Rolling the cigarette from the left corner of her mouth to the right, Katherine was choosing carefully the words for the report she'd give to the Prince, and deciding how to explain him why she hadn't killed Simon for his Masquerade violations. And as far as she could size the Caitiff up, he wouldn't be happy to kneel down in front of anyone. So it was better to prepare him. Right in front of the tower entrance she grabbed his arm, turning his attention to her so that he looked at the Ventrue.

"Simon, you're about to meet the most powerful Kindred in this city. I know you're a free spirit, however you must pay him respect, else he could think you're with the Anarchs. Those who left you for dead because of their reckless feeding. Those who made you what you are now and didn't care. They did the same to me, but the Prince took care of me. So it's also important for me that you kneel down in front of him." Katherine used again her presence, hoping it would help a bit to make Simon obedient, and stressed the last sentence to dominate him and make sure we _will_ kneel down in front of LaCroix.

"I will kneel down. Don't worry, but I don't like it." He grunted and twitched his muscular shoulders like the muscles in them were knotted. "I don't know why but you're a pretty persuasive girl, Katherine. Never met someone like you." Somewhere, Imalia was giggling.

"Wait until you meet the Prince." There he could witness real persuasiveness. Passing Chunk, who yawned like a hippo, they both stepped into the elevator and next to Simon Imalia popped out with a broad grin that made the Caitiff leap into the opposite direction. Not that there was much space in the elevator.

"So...Imalia, was it? Like the deceased supermodel?" Oh oh. Simon just poked into the bee's nest.

"Not _like _the supermodel, it's _THE_ supermodel. Of course you're not recognising me with this whole Texas Chainsaw Massacre thing going on but I'm the one and only..._Imalia_." Saying her name in the most seductive tone a Nosferatu could produce, it made Katherine roll her eyes in agony. Gladly, Imalia didn't spot it.

"Really? Uh, my oldest son had a total crush on you." That wiped the grin on the Nosferatu's face away, replacing it with a bright smile showing off the crooked, yellow teeth which Katherine could see as she gazed over her shoulder. Immediately the poor Caitiff was confronted with Imalia's onrush about her past glory days as the sex symbol of Hollywood, only to be interrupted by the 'bing' from the elevator. _'God, thank you.'_ According to Simon's expression he was actually interested in what Imalia was telling him. Well, Katherine was not and the Caitiff's attention was now drawn to the pompous decor of the Prince's penthouse, eyes dragged constantly to a new shining corner.

"Totally noooot the sewers. Bah!" Imalia spat and lifted her nose and Simon gave her an absent "Uh," as an answer.

"Okay, cut the chatter and let me do the talking. The Prince may look like he's in his early twenties but he's older than the three of us together." It's not that Katherine was impatient or actually absolutely bugged. She simply did not want to deliver LaCroix a reason for punishment so everything needed to go perfectly in front of the Prince. No relying on mere luck or random ideas.

"I know that," Imalia snarled, offended.

"It was directed at Simon. He's obviously new to the business. So, only talk when the Prince addresses you, understood?" The Caitiff nodded, still looking a bit grumpy and displeased with all these complicated codes of behaviour. The doors were opened and the three Kindred stepped into the courtroom. Simon obviously felt uncomfortable, even more so as he spotted the huge Sheriff, as opposed to Katherine whose eyes were first on LaCroix who was sitting behind his desk with an emotionless mask on his imperial face. The Ventrue would lay her hand into the fire that the Prince already had questions about Imalia and Simon in his mind. Stopping at a respectful distance, Simon kneeled down. So far, so good while she and Imalia made deep bows.

"Prince LaCroix, everything was executed as you ordered. The traitor was dealt with, as was the Kindred known to the mortals as the Southland Slasher." Simon twitched and like an eagle LaCroix spotted the motion.

"Is there something more you want to tell me, Miss Falkner?" It would have been too easy if Katherine could have gone out of this without explaining that point further. Being the pessimist this existence had made her into, she was already prepared for delivering cotton-packed explanations, or so she hoped.

"Actually this is the Southland Slasher. His name is Simon and he wasn't claimed by any clan." That was the friendly term for a Caitiff. "I convinced him to stop his actions, and to show his new-found allegiance to the Camarilla he helped us to deal the sentence the traitor Kent Alan Ryan deserved." A blond eyebrow rose sceptically and the Prince folded his hands in on the dark wood of his old desk. With 'us' she referred to Imalia. A hint LaCroix also noticed. Of course he did. Katherine would be a fool in believing he wouldn't.

"His gruesome, odious and unnecessary slaughters are all across the newspapers. He endangered our existence. Do you think this can be overlooked?" Voice sharp as a knife, and while Imalia wasn't affected by it like Katherine – who saw it coming – it was again Simon who twitched nervously with his shoulders.

"Of course not my Prince. He's already agreed to the very strict conditions I enforced upon him without complaining, as he risked his life by stepping into The Last Round. He's also aware that the recklessness of the Anarch's feeding is to blame for his situation." It was hard to tell if LaCroix was going to believe her words, since there was still a lack of any real expression on his face.

"So you will take responsibility for his future actions?" Katherine had hoped to avoid this question. How silly of her.

"Yes my Prince." There was no other answer possible. To deny the bail would seem like a treachery to her past words. All the trust between Imalia and her would have been obliterated in a second, which is why Katherine had to stand up for the words she spoke at Brother's Salvage.

"Hmm, interesting." If Katherine needed to breathe, she would've exhaled the air now like a balloon with a hole. This was a high gamble. "You have my permission, however..." His gaze was now locked on the kneeling Caitiff. "Being my protégé, you should know what you're doing. Well then, you may go. You'll get the reward for your work from Miss Gyllenhaal." That was his Kindred secretary in the level right under his penthouse. Katherine never really knew what was going on there except that it was filled with ghouls and Kindred alike. Perhaps some sort of headquarters. An odd thought. Mercurio once told her that he received his fixes there. But what made her ponder more was the fact that LaCroix usually gave her the rewards in person, not through some secretary of his and all her worst fears swept through the Ventrue's dead body like the cold chill the voice of her step-sire was, and she wanted to follow her companions. "On a private word, Miss Falkner." _'Oh crap. Lady, its scolding time.' _No illusions. At least he was fair enough not to do it in front of Imalia and Simon. She was thirsty and her mouth tasted ashen.

"Simon, please stay in Santa Monica for now. It's a safe harbour for the Camarilla. The Anarchs won't take a step into this part of the city. If you need something, ask Mercurio in the nearby apartments next to Trip's. Tell him I sent you." Later Katherine would introduce him to Venus and his duty at the Confession. Imalia was surely heading back to the Warrens, looking to see if the cameras were doing a proper job.

"Don't get eaten, honey." Imalia gave the Ventrue a wink and slipped through the door while Simon gave her a last concerned look, like he was leaving someone behind in a pit of poisonous snakes.

"I'll be fine. It's routine." Being that it was not her first time to be dissected by the Prince, and it relieved Katherine a bit that Simon instinctively understood what a threat LaCroix could be, though anyhow it was all prepared. Nothing to worry about, right? Excellent. Turning around on her heels to face the Prince once more he had an amused smirk on his face catching her somewhat off-guard. Again. Despite all the preparations.

"So, you've managed to achieve an entourage all by yourself. Actually, I'm impressed." There it was again. The hurricane that blew everything she planned beforehand away. Where were the snide questions? "Even the childe of Primogen Golden. I knew he would try to gather information about your work for me. That is the reason why I haven't called upon you the last months." This logical sentence had a strange taste with regard to her not so long ago treachery. It sounded more like a bitter candy, wrapped in a nice package so it would at least seem tasty; however, it left her a bit speechless.

"Thank you my Prince. I feel honoured." Eyes shifting a bit nervously away from LaCroix, wandering past him to the windows. What else should she say, expecting the total opposite of compliments?

"You could work a little bit on the choice of Kindred but in regards of your age, it is excusable." Still no scolding only parental guidance. It made her suspicious or was she simply overreacting, being hungry and a bit exhausted? The night had been long and Katherine wanted nothing more than to find someone to feed upon and a nice warm bath, getting rid of the torn up clothes and stench of gunpowder. "I'll take the liberty of assuming that you have certain plans with the Caitiff. Please. I'd like to hear them." Before Katherine even had the opportunity to respond, LaCroix pushed the button of the intercom immediately, everything precisely timed. "Bring some champagne, _tout de suite."_ Panic arose in the stomach of the young Ventrue, as she tried to remain calm and not run out of the office screaming in horror. If a person like LaCroix was nice out of the blue, there was a reason for it. A reason which inevitably could seal her fate. _'Meddling in the affairs of a Malkavian with split personality? Check.'_ Katherine started to count down which suicide missions she'd already survived. "Please, make yourself comfortable. Sheriff, you're freed to feed now." The Prince made a gesture to the two chairs and table near the cozy fireplace while the bulky Sheriff – never thinking it would frighten Katherine to see him leave – walked out and shut the door. Bang. _'Warehouse full of human Sabbat thugs? Check.'_ "We have time while we wait for our small _coffre de nuit_." _'Crawling though sewers infested with Tzimisce abominations? Check.' _Mechanically and more like a robot she sat down on the chair, not even taking the time to admire how comfortable it was and how many powerful Kindred must have sat on the same spot. Not that he needed to dominate her, good grief! The sole horror of LaCroix's behaviour was enough to make her do anything to get out alive. Given different circumstances, meaning no betrayal of hers, Katherine would've enjoyed it. Really. But that was now not the case. The echoes of shoes over parquet were sounding like someone rapidly pulling the trigger of a gun. "You don't mind the more _légère _clothing of mine? It was a long night."_ 'Hotel full of Sabbat Kindred? Check.'_ Swinging his dark grey jacket from his shoulders, the Prince laid it on the back of the vacant chair. At least he was not smiling or something. Could vampires actually faint due to horror? "Please, begin." _'Getting the order to assassinate the leader of the Kuei-Jin right in her lair? Check.'_ Was there still any possibility of a deadly mission? Why in all heavens didn't he just spill it? It would make things less creepy. Perhaps she should just stop thinking because there was nothing Katherine could do about it anyway. _'Just start talking.' _And she did. Starting with the fact that she needed a new bouncer at the club and Simon could be paid with a sun-proof room and some lessons, rather than money.

"And I have someone who swallows the bullets." Not daring to look at the Prince, Katherine focused on her hands which she had folded in her lap. The only thing that was visible to her from LaCroix when she gazed up a bit were his legs, the left one swung over the right one and his elbow on one of the armrests.

"He does a bad job at this." A dry comment about the bullet holes in her blouse, which were clearly visible at closer distance.

"It needs a little work, I suppose." But for the first time it was not bad. _'Ah yes: waggling into a bar full of Anarchs to assassinate one of them: check!' _Even if she had luck and a stupid enough plan to avoid it. It didn't change the fact that she was supposed to do it and without doubt, LaCroix knew that. Bastard! Maybe the next thing he had up to his sleeve was that he wanted her to bring him Isaac Abram's ashes on a silver plate. Please be subtle. Thank you.

"Obviously." Not knowing if she should be thanking god for the interruption from a ghoul with a golden plate – close enough! – who delivered two glasses and a bottle with blood. Katherine smelled it immediately due to her thirst. So that's champagne? Please, not blood with alcohol! Was there any limit to the creepiness? No there wasn't. As the ghoul vanished, LaCroix stood up and took the bottle.

"Enough about business. You're my protégé and I actually don't know anything personal about you." _'God, please have mercy!'_ Should she assassinate Rodriguez too? Smiling Jack? Why not the whole Anarch population? _'Calm yourself lady! You have survived everything up to now. So keep a cool head.'_ Finally the fleeing courage was found; however, her voice was lower than usual.

"Well, I was born in Trier, Germany ---" It was the best choice to start off like the Prince did, as Katherine had asked him once about himself, or so she thought.

"I know what the files read. I want to know what they don't." Katherine's mouth stayed open for some seconds, then closed without one more word coming out of it. So he had a file about her. Fine.

"I suppose not the one from the military." Somehow it awoke her fighting spirit a bit, being a crucial spot to be spied upon. Katherine now looked up, detaching her gaze from the hands in her lap and observing LaCroix who walked over to a wall mount with a sabre, taking it off. '_What the bloody hell?'_

"Those also." Two single words with the impact of a sledge hammer. "What are you talking about when in the company of Mercurio? He told me both of you were exchanging stories about your time in the military." Mercurio was Mercurio! Jesus, and he was the Prince! You don't sit together with the Prince, sipping some damn expensive alcoholic vintage and talking about barrack commandants who drove off in the night, parked their car somewhere else and attempted to sneak back in, only to check if the guard was doing his duty right! Well, she did now. "Did your branch – _Feldjäger_, was it? – have any special rites?" He could have also asked her to dance on his desk while stripping. It would have produced the same dull expression on Katherine's face which made LaCroix sigh heavily while stepping back to where the Ventrue was sitting like a retard. "The Hussards, fearsome cavalry and where I was _capitaine_, used _le sabrage_. It is not quite the same with a bottle of blood," he mused with a smirk on his face, holding the bottle parallel to the floor and sliding with the blunt side of the sabre along on its neck. She didn't know what else he had done rather than sliding the blade on the bottle but it made a short cracking tone and the glassy container was opened.

"Well, we did not open our bottles with weaponry." It surprised her how sarcastic she could be in such a situation, however it was the scenery in her mind which produced it: shooting a poor beer can with a gun and everyone would have remained thirsty. LaCroix knitted his eyebrows together, indicating that he was not amused by the response and Katherine made a desperate attempt to rescue the situation. "We had a lot of jodies, though, but you don't want to hear me rumbling them. It would offend your ears my Prince." The smile on her face felt like a horrid grimace, producing more pain than defusing the situation whilst said offended Prince poured them some vintage. It was still warm. Was he drinking this _every_ night? He sat down again and leaned the sabre against his chair.

"Rumbling, ha!" Whatever snide comment he had on his tongue, LaCroix didn't say it. Probably something about Germans being barbaric upholding cultivated France. As if the opening of a bottle with a sword wasn't barbaric of some sort. Didn't they have corkscrews in Napoleon's era? Or should she have been impressed by the act? It was time to spend a little bit more attention to those minor details. The dark, sarcastic thoughts were shooed away as the Prince raised his glass to her. "But you surely do have a wassail." Ever imagine LaCroix as someone who locked himself in a basement to laugh, that creepy feeling was mixed with awkwardness. There she sat with the Prince of Los Angeles who wanted her to speak a toast, her hand slowly reaching for the glass and raising it.

"_Es lebe der Teufel und die Jagdreiterei_. _Horrido..._" It lacked a lot of enthusiasm, in fact: she spoke it very monotone as if it was a valve to pour out that she felt very uncomfortable, remembering her small accident while she was drunk and babbling a lot of stupid crap in the presence of LaCroix. Maybe she should get drunk now again so it was more bearable.

"_...Jo-ho._ Was it? It's been a while." Looking up and staring at the Prince with his autocratic smile, Katherine lowered her glass and was now completely out of the picture. "At the start of the battle a Prussian cavalry branch liked to shout it." Of course the German military had its roots in Prussia and LaCroix, being from this time, knew about it but why was he asking then? _'Just...bear it. Don't think about it.'_ Else her head would surely explode, however all worries were washed away upon taking a sip out of the glass. It was the best blood she had tasted in months, needing all her self-control not to swallow it greedily, offending the etiquette. Needless to say, she now had no control then over her trembling hand, feeling how the warm, alcoholic blood produced a pleasant burning in the back of her throat.

"Does it not suit your palate?" God and how it does! Was he kidding? Katherine's head jerked up immediately, looking him straight in the eyes so that she was not offending him again but her gaze wandered off, down to his blood coated lips where a single droplet of the red life slowly crawled its way from the curve of the pale mouth down to LaCroix's chin. Dwindling common sense and a Beast who scratched in its cage.

"No." A lump was in her throat. "It's perfect." And she forced herself to look straight at the Prince once again. Enough impolite gestures for now, even if this were shoving her more and more towards a panicking outburst similar to a bad horror movie.

"Any other answer would have left me wondering. Even the Regent licks his fingers for this fine vintage." With normal working senses and a brain, Katherine would never have had this stupid idea nor even executed it. The small longing, only a seed, grew into a forceful urge she could not possibly tame in the momentary state of hypnotizing taste from blood, a Ventrue's greatest crux. They say no one knows how a Ventrue determines his favourite kind of blood, nor the criteria. It seems more like a random event and having the same taste as LaCroix was an unsettling thought for the young Ventrue at first but at the moment it was not her concern, however it should have scared her to death. Rising slowly from the chair and stepping toward the sitting Prince, Katherine bent down and held his face with both hands, licking disturbing red liquor away from perfect ivory skin. A bolt of lightning struck her and Katherine leapt backwards, eyes agape, struck with horrified realization.

"I---I---sorry! It—I don't know how—came over me---" Sweet mother of God! Mind all dazzling, not able to produce anything proper with exception of stupid stuttering it was one of the few moments where the grown-up woman wanted to die on the spot. Now. LaCroix only raised a hand and stopped with this simple motion the horrified gibbering excuses from her mouth.

"Come here." A hand was extended in her direction, making her walk like a wooden doll, every limb stiff and rigid, wanting to face the opposite direction away from the monster which sat in the chair where her mind commanded her to go. Cold, merciless hands grabbed her wrists like sharp talons sinking into the flesh of a hare, dragging her down once again. "There is something left." If this was a nightmare, it was time to wake up but now she would gladly do anything he demanded she do, whatever sick thing he wanted not asking why because in an cruel irony a part of her liked it. And this part scared her despite having accepted it in the past months. It just felt wrong, forbidden. Like being a child stealing cookies off the cookie jar but much worse because it made her susceptible to blackmail, to LaCroix's blackmailing and even with this knowledge Katherine was not able to resist. May that manipulating bastard be cursed for all eternity! On the other hand: wasn't he the only one where she actually felt something? Passionate anger, hate, refusal, envy, admiration, adoration, love.

Cautiously were the lips freed of tainting blood, hesitantly like a soldier wandering though a mine field with a sudden response from the Prince who grabbed her neck, pulling the neonate further down to him, forcing her to support herself on the back of the chair, the Prince's head right in between her arms.

"Why are you doing this?" Last rebellion of sanity, last stance to deny this bizarre happening.

"You seem to like these things. It is a token of my gratitude." It sounded like a business response, something Katherine could deal with and something she could use as a petty explanation. However, it disturbed her a bit that he blamed it all on her. If Monsieur insisted.

"So we're still doing business, Prince LaCroix?"

"If you'd like to call it that way."

"What should I call it then?"

"A token of gratitude."

"I never said I like those worldly Toreador things."

"Do you want to imply a Toreador is better than me?"

"Sir, what are you trying to say?"

"I simply want to learn more about my protégé."

"That implies embarrassing her?" How dare she use the word seduction in connection with manipulation, and finally he'd made a mistake in giving her enough time to regain some lost self-control, making it possible for all the things that were flying around in her mind to settle. The first thing to make its way of course was her injured pride in search of shatters to rescue but it was all obliterated again in mere seconds.

"I am the Prince of Los Angeles! I do not need to justify my cause to a fledgling." Seeing LaCroix's eyes flickering in anger so close to her face sent cold chills of fear down Katherine's spine and the tightening grip around her neck reminded her that she was in a bad position.

"Of course my Prince." If not stopping now, she would probably end up as a Kindred shish kebob. "Please forgive my insolence. What are your orders?"

"Stop asking questions," LaCroix snarled, placing the glass in his other hand back on the table. His sudden motion to stand up surprised Katherine as her arms was suddenly dragged upwards by shoulders. Reflexes were setting in, automatically clinging upon the sole hold that was in reach; however that was unnecessary due to the fact that the Prince held his formerly occupied hand against the small of her back. It spared her the embarrassment of falling against him. The drawback of it was not being able to move away, once more caught like prey.

"Yes Lord Prince, Regent of all Kindred." Katherine sure knew her flattery if it would somehow turn out toward her favour. If this was possible in such a Twilight Zone-esque situation at all. Gladly LaCroix didn't interpret it as mockery, smiling broadly and exposing his blood stained fangs. One explanation could be that he enjoyed it when she cringed like a tormented bug beneath his eyes, slowly being crushed under his heel. Yes, that was most likely possible. This was the punishment for her bad taste in picking companions. Bingo! So all she needed to do was simply enjoy it to piss into his cup of bloody coffee? Her pride demanded it! A fight of David and Goliath, being a David without a sling.

Again his grip around her neck tightened making sure she wasn't going anywhere as his lips with the strong taste of blood were forced upon her own. Not wasting a second, Katherine responded eagerly, seemingly enjoying the awkward kiss. _'You won't get me down again. You want to learn? Fine! Learn that you snobby French asshole!' _Touching with one hand the back of his head, cramping fingers into short sand blond hair the younger Ventrue sped up the pace, indulging the taste of blood on LaCroix's lips, not letting the opportunity slip away as he opened them a slight bit to demand more, however, the Prince was not so easy to corner. Being used to the dominating and leading part, he responded more wantonly, attempting to get back the lead like it was some sort of competition. Well it was. Every night was a competition for a Ventrue even among themselves. It came to her mind that it could be the Blood Bond. That LaCroix was trying to getting her fully bound. Why else would he bait a thirsty Kindred with delicious blood? That would make sense and this implied his knowledge of her longing for his vitae which Katherine needed to restrain with all her might at the moment.

"Prince LaCroix. Excuse my sudden interruption but Primogen Voerman is on the line. She says it's a very urgent matter." Fine, chirping voice of Miss Gyllenhaal made them pause, breaking the kiss not because their little competition was exhausting and releasing the Prince out of her grip. His duty called and there was no need to make clear how the order of priorities was even if it had started to get interesting in some kind of bizarre way. LaCroix walked to his desk, pushing a different button on the intercom.

"I'll take the call in one minute. Please soothe her until then." Odd thing to spot but Katherine noticed that she'd ruined his hairdo. Gallows humour. The Primogen of Los Angeles had an odd sense for timing their calls or visits perfectly and it remained silent for a couple of seconds in the office until LaCroix slowly strode back to where Katherine was standing upright like a soldier.

"I won't call upon you again for a period of time." Was he actually explaining something to her? "Despite the still disturbing lack of talent in this organisation, I must be cautious with your services. Every Kindred's eyes are on a matter when I utilize you."

"I understand, sir." It'd help to rearrange the agenda 'don't let yourself be manipulated by the Prince' of hers.

"And pay more attention to your clothing. You look like a beggar." Oh yes, now we're back to the insulting part. Fine, that was at least a character trait more fitting of him. "And you're still smoking. My mouth tastes like ash. A shame. You may lead yourself out." So did the plan of enjoying it really work out that good? Was he that pissed? Katherine suppressed a statistical, satisfied smile.

"Yes my Prince. Good evening." Somewhere Katherine had already seen this strange expression in the Prince's eyes but she couldn't point out when and where, anyhow that went better than she thought despite encountering Cecilia once more on the way back to the elevator.

"I warned you about laying a finger on him," she snarled from a distance, catching Katherine's gaze. "Don't touch him ever again." Something tickled a bit at the back of her skull.

"Did you just try to dominate me, Princess of eavesdropping?" Cecilia's wide open eyes gave away the answer. "Well then." The elevator arrived and Katherine stepped in. "_Knüppel frei_." Smiling, she used the other battle cry her former military branch was known for: truncheons permitted and the brazen doors closed.

As if Cecilia could be a threat to her.

* * *

AN: _Es lebe der Teufel und die Jagdreiterei_ – Hail to the devil and the horse hunting. The branch of Feldjäger (blunt translated its "field hunters") were in the past foresters and hunters in Prussia but the more appropriate translation is Military Police.

_Le sabrage_ is still practised today, becoming popular in France during Napoleon. The sabre, being the weapon of choice for the Hussards, was used to open champagne bottles during celebrations of victory. A more popular story is about Madame Clicquot, a widow who inherited her husband's Champagne house. To impress the rich young widow, the officers opened the bottles with their sabres (Kat, you blew it!). But don't try this at home kids! LaCroix can regrow limbs, you not! Usually that's made possible because the champagne bottles are under pressure, but that's why LaCroix mentions it that's not the same with a bottle full of blood.

I know, I know. It looks like LaCroix is totally OOC, but...BUT: if you know how the rules for the Blood Bond works, you'll get an idea what's going on. Furthermore, he really isn't going to expose his full agenda to us right now. Believe me, there is a real explanation behind this, besides me wanting to write that, jajaja! Rest assure: there's still a long way to go for a romance to start (if it ever will happen, kekeke), rather than awkward strange duhh, moments.


	9. Tempus Fugit

**Celeste:** Sorry for leaving so many questions open but you know: Plot building and stuff (universal excuse for a sucking script, jajaja). But I think the desire will be satisfied in the future.

**And thanks to Maellowyn **(Now I feel dirty because of future chapters to come if THAT was stripping, jajaja), **rednightmare **(Vandal! We need a blood transfusion!), **Sazei** (I'll send you some info about the Blood Bond) and **Shoryaku no Neko** (Je suis un...uhh..fou? Thanks anyway for correcting my mistake, jajaja)** for the reviews! You're the chocolate on my cake which is not a lie!**

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Familiar golden and white decor caught her eye, a style which was from the past. Older than herself from a long gone empire, yet so familiar and her gaze now focused on the man who stood in front of her. Blond hair, combed in a style which fitted the environment perfectly, he wore a bicone like Napoléon Bonaparte._

"_Whose thrall are you?" the man asked her and she didn't understand his question._

"_I'm no one's thrall." Her words made the man smirk snidely, showing her his bloody wrist._

"_Whose thrall are you?" Blood filled her mouth, sweet tasty vitae her senses were longing for and it silently whispered the answer. She ignored it._

"_No one's." It sounded weaker but still convinced. The man's pale face showed that he was displeased and he grabbed his collar, revealing a blood stained bite mark at the curve of his neck._

"_Whose thrall are you?" This time he snarled it, sending shivers down her spine. She didn't want to upset him._

"_Yours." Satisfaction appeared on the man's edgy face, lips curled up so that she could see his sharp fangs, feeling once more cold thick blood in her mouth._

The next night Katherine awoke, she stared for a long time at the ceiling. If someone ever were to ask what the most awkward get-up for a boss would be, without a doubt a lot of people would answer naked. She however would answer: dressed like Napoleon Bonaparte. With that question answered, the Ventrue crawled from the couch and decided to take another shower. After the bizarre meeting with LaCroix she'd already had one, but still felt his touch and Katherine wanted to get rid of it so he couldn't dominate her mind anymore, albeit it was again too late. The next thing she'd done was ask Mercurio to bring her some books about Napoleon. Giving her a questioning stare, the ghoul nodded, realising he wouldn't get any answer why. Well, Katherine came up with a new plan but a better description would be a checklist she needed to fulfill before meeting the Prince again. First and most important was feeding! Never ever she would go thirsty again into his office! Second: Reading about his time. The more knowledge about it the better. He wouldn't be able to ambush her or let her look like a retard, because there was no need to pull every answer out of her nose. Perhaps it was even possible for her to engage into some kind of conversation, rather than stuttering some words. These were the only two things she came up with during the taxi ride back, and regarding her state of mind it came as a surprise to even think straight for a time.

Upon entering the living room again, Katherine now spotted the pile of books. Grabbing one and slowly browsing through the pages with a lot of text and some illustrations, she put it back. Exactly what she wanted. After feeding upon poor Mercurio, she thought he would have been bedridden. Shamelessly she'd drank a bit too much of him so he would probably charge her with a high debt. Well, better than a vampire in frenzy, right?

"You a bit better, sweetie?" Mercurio just came back from some assignments she guessed, like he always had to do during daytime. "You seemed to be a bit out of place the past night. What happened?" Ah yes. It was quite unusual to wake him up from sleep to make a request and then feed on him like a starved mosquito.

"I don't want to talk about it." Besides who would believe it? A Malkavian perhaps and it was still her own dirty, fruity little secret to have some kind of Stockholm syndrome. In retrospect, she really could not claim hating all the events. Not that she had some sexual longing for him. That died alongside her body; however it felt nice like touching expensive soft silk. She hated how it happened and why. Without any doubt LaCroix was manipulating her, that was certain and Katherine could only guess what his intentions were. The most reasonable was the Blood Bond, hands down and there was perhaps the sole exception that he had some kind of perverted wicked fetish, enjoying make her suffer. Most likely, it was LaCroix after all, but besides his own pleasure there was no gain from it. At least no obvious one so she stuck with the Blood Bond, however why didn't he simply dominate her to drink his blood? Also regarding her behaviour, because of Ophelia's dementation the Ventrue could understand why LaCroix was thinking she liked such 'things'. In fact she was the one who kissed him, giving a completely false impression! How great and there was no better explanation than, _'Hey, Ophelia was also there but only I saw her. She demented me that's why I jumped at you!'_. No thanks. She embarrassed herself in front of the Prince way too often. Headache alarm.

Mercurio simply shrugged. The ghoul knew where his place was and he didn't poke any further for which Katherine was thankful. "Thanks for the books. There are 200 dollars in my ragged clothes in the bathroom and add some ammo on top of it."

"Think 200 dollars is enough for my blood?" Mercurio was a Ventrue ghoul through and through.

"I'll get the rest later, Al Capone." Often Katherine suspected that he had been in some kind of crime syndicate after his days in the military and that Mercurio just was some kind of alias. He had a record in the Big Apple, so it wasn't too far-fetched, however it was time to find Simon and instruct him about his new job at the Confession. Enough friendly chatting with the ghoul, business called and it would distract her from the thoughts about LaCroix. Better to take one of the books with her just in case there were no punks to throw out, besides the Caitiff was a very silent guy. _'Can't blame him for that.'_ Again Simon was silent and brooding all the way, only nodding when Katherine gave him some instructions on how to handle guests who dared to disturb the usual peace. Venus eyed the new bouncer a bit doubtfully but Simon's physique was intimidating enough for her taste. Heather, the college student who helped out with collecting the cash at the entrance, seemed quite relieved to have another bouncer at hand next to Katherine.

"How did it go yesterday?" All of a sudden, Simon started to talk after a while. Both were standing next to the entrance, observing the dancing crowd and with a surprised look the Ventrue eyed him.

"What do you mean?" His sudden interest was kind of strange but on the other hand it must certainly be a bit overwhelming for him. All the new things, rules and on top of that meeting the most important Kindred of the city.

"That stuff the rich twerp, LaCrotch, wanted from you. I don't like him," he grunted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Twerp. It really sounded funny but she wasn't in the mood for funny things and foremost not with regard to LaCroix. If she would have been in a better mood, Katherine would have burst into laughter about Simon calling the Prince LaCrotch.

"He may be a twerp but he's the most powerful Kindred in this city and be careful to whom you say such things. He can't peel your skin off with his bare hands but one word and you're ashes and it's LaCroix." That was a hint about the Toreador they killed for him, and Katherine really waited for the moment when a crowd of Anarchs marched into her club trying to bash her head with baseball bats and tire irons because they're just in the mood for that. "Besides, he's my step-sire, so you may think whatever you like of him but you should know that without him I'd probably have ended up like you." Simon snorted and looked now directly at her.

"Hey, didn't want to piss you off, but that guy's giving me the creeps. Looks like a walking corpse." Oh well yes. Katherine had observed the strange change of LaCroix's during the sarcophagus incident. He slowly looked paler, colder. That time back his presence already made her shift uncomfortably on her feet and now he made the Southland Slasher uncomfortable. Wasn't that somehow alarming?

"He is a walking corpse like you and me." And she had to give Simon credit for his sharp instincts. Must be the Gangrel blood, regardless of his being as Caitiff.

"You like him." It came out blunt and hit her like that, head jerking back into his direction like she'd been caught in the act doing a crime.

"I'm his protégée, his most trusted asset, most loyal adjutant. Whether I like him is not subject to a debate." The direction where this conversation headed wasn't to the Ventrue's liking or was she just again overreacting? In such cases it was better simply to remain calm. Ignoring emotions and the like. "He may be a twerp, he may give you the creeps but if he were to order me to kill you, I would do it because he's the Prince. He represents the law and I simply decided to side with the law rather than going against it like your sire and my sire."

"Did your real sire leave you for dead too?" Seeing his expression darken because of her response, Katherine could judge that Simon still wasn't very fond of the Camarilla's laws, or rather about the person who represented them. As long as he didn't side with the Anarchs or violate Camarilla law it was fine with her. At the moment.

"He simply sired me out of the blue without permission to piss off the Prince I guess. The Anarchs like to randomly Embrace people and leave them on their own." How a Ventrue could side with those punks was beyond her understanding but Alexander did. Strangely enough he had been employed at the LaCroix Corporation. Again questions which were nearly impossible to answer on her own. "Of course the Prince got wind of it, delivered the sentence to my sire and spared me." How LaCroix knew about that event so fast was another riddle, but not why he spared her. It was a simple political decision and made a figurehead out of the ill-fated progeny.

"Hmm..." Simon's gaze strode across the bunch of kine, as Katherine's loud voice drew his attention to her.

"Hey, you! Get off that toothpick and you are allowed to enter. No weapons." A man with a long brown coat turned around and a silver cross dangled around his neck. Oh shit. "Out of here. Now." Instantly, Katherine went stiff and the hunter inspected her slowly, making the sign of a cross. What in god's – no not his name now! – was a hunter doing here?

"Spawn of Satan, be warned." His voice was deep, however he marched out of the club without any resistance but the presence of a hunter in her club was alarming. Very alarming, more so that he recognised her instantly as a vampire. Hastily, her mind was searching for Masquerade violations she probably could have committed but nothing came to her mind. Should she inform LaCroix about this? After all it was her who killed Grünfeld Bach. Could any survivors of the explosion remember her face? It was Ash's fate which came to her mind. Katherine had saved him in the Society of Leopold and most certainly she did not want to share the same fate.

"What was that?" Simon's voice dragged her out of her pondering.

"That was a hunter. A human who knows about our existence and slays Kindred in the name of god. Don't take them lightly. I think this is a very bad sign for one of them to show here up." Neither was it a good idea to inform the Prince. It could look like Katherine would run to his lap whenever she faced problems and it was hard work to convince Dean that she wasn't his lapdog or a spoiled step-childe. Also her pride demanded that she solve her own problems with her own wits, rather than use her somewhat strange connections to the Prince; besides he would charge her for that. Thoughtful she looked at the crowd again, how the red light illuminated everything in a bloody colour and the DJ who produced fast, scratchy techno beats for the entertainment of the hungry masses. All in all it was satisfying how the Confession was going. The bar was full and Venus with her Beat Priestess number still maintained a welcoming dump for all poor souls who needed a bit of comfort. Could a rival send the hunters? Potential enemies were available enough, probably more than the fingers and toes she had.

A rhythmic vibration in her pocket announced a caller on her mobile and while Katherine flipped the mobile open, she took a look at the number. Masked. Oh well.

"Yes? Sir, Mr. Pieterzoon I'm surprised you call me. Yes of course. No, it is not, I'm on my way." That was kind of a surprise. "Simon, I'll leave the club to you. Please take good care of it and keep an eye on Heather." The red-haired girl was often a victim of drunken, testosterone filled men who were in search of fast and cheap fun. They could search for them among the guests but not amongst her employees if they didn't want to. Simon gave his nod of approval and Katherine went on her way to the Empire Arms where Jan Pieterzoon wanted her to come; anyway what did he want from her? Perhaps more questions about Beckett? Whatever the older Ventrue wanted was again only for her to guess. From the first impression, Pieterzoon was an experienced Kindred, somehow similar to LaCroix but only in style and clothing. He seemed more, well, reasonable, less cold but still maintained an aura of great authority which was an aura of anxiety with LaCroix.

This time, Katherine didn't need to sneak in or dominate the receptionist to gain entrance into the posh rooms of the hotel and the room which Pieterzoon was residing in. In fact he had chartered a whole level and awaited her right as she stepped out of the elevator.

"Fräulein Falkner, I thank you for coming at fast pace." It came as a surprise that he spoke with her in German rather than English, and on top of that with an outdated form of address.

"As I said, it is no bother." Shaking the outreached hand of the other Kindred, she followed him into a room where they could talk in a more appropriate environment.

"Please, have a seat. Can I offer you some refreshment?" Rarely was it possible at all to have the right vintage for a Ventrue guest on hand but it was simple hospitality amongst the clan, to show that you were welcome rather than an annoyance. Details Katherine still needed to consider, else she would forget them instantly because such things were still not natural for her, adapted into flesh and blood.

"This is not necessary, thank you. I didn't know you speak German." It was a blunt observation and for that, he gave the neonate an amused smile like she'd said something cute.

"I have several offices in Germany; sadly I had to close a factory in Bonn some time ago and to be honest: I'm not very fond of the English language. I really would have preferred to speak French with the Prince." Quite an odd remark, however, for the first time Katherine noticed that LaCroix really spoke on very rare occasions French. At first, she didn't even think that he was French indeed, having no accent whatsoever. But he had one as he surprised her during her inspection of that cursed poster which was gone for good now. Was there a reason behind it? He seemed so connected to his French roots.

"I understand." Denying that it didn't make her comfortable to be able to talk and hear the language she grew up with would be idiotic, however, she hadn't any aversion to the English language. That would be very strange for someone who was half-American. "I don't want to sound rude but may I ask why you want to talk to me?" Assuming in advance that Beckett was the reason would be really offensive and impolite. LaCroix already reacted very bitchy about such things and slapped her verbally with the sentence, that she could never assume even a single thought of his. True.

"Actually we are already on the topic. I'd like to talk to you about Sebastian." Katherine stared at the other Ventrue, not sure what the meaning of this was and to make things worse, it made her quite uncomfortable to be involved in such a conversation again. The last time she talked with Strauss about the Prince it turned out disastrous, even if she was talking to a fellow clanmate. She was – at least for the public – the Prince's most trusted asset. Why ask her about him? What was the point? Unless...Giving the signal that she suspected ulterior motives would give away that there was dirty laundry. And there was. A lot. Anyway, Katherine already decided on whose side she was standing, having known Pieterzoon only for several minutes and meeting him for the second time. She couldn't believe he would think otherwise. The only problem was the lack of such subtle politicking. Katherine was a soldier, not refined in smooth talking as such a situation needed and without a sire there was no one who would teach her this skill.

"I think I'm the wrong person for such questions." As if she would talk about LaCroix's past plans and his more or less non-compliant Camarilla actions, planning to diablerize an Antediluvian.

"I'm not your enemy, Fräulein Falkner; however I'm here on behalf of the Elders of Europe. Sebastian's past actions raised many eyebrows amongst them. It can't be denied that he calmed the craze about the sarcophagus and repelled a secret Sabbat assault." Katherine was still against it and it smelled too fishy, even if her own reasoning told her that Pieterzoon had a point.

"Does Prince LaCroix know about this?" If not she didn't dare to imagine his outburst of anger about the Elder's distrust.

"I suspect so. That is why he wasn't very pleased that we met, after all many questions are leading towards you." Pieterzoon's blue eyes focused on her, his face hardened. "Before I ask important questions I'd like to hear one answer. I know you owe your life to Sebastian and that you are very loyal towards him, however, where do your real loyalties belong to?" What was that for a dumb question? Did they suspect her to be a double agent, affected by the Sabbat's teachings and who changed sides silently? Well that was nearly true but still it was a shared secret between the Prince, Regent Strauss and her; or had Strauss spat it out?

"If you want to allude to my pretended allegiance to the Sabbat, then it is what it is. I'm loyal to the Camarilla, Herr Pieterzoon. Nothing has changed during my mission." The older Ventrue shook his head and leaned a bit forward.

"Are you loyal to the Camarilla or to Sebastian LaCroix alone?"

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AN: Next we'll dive into Jan Pieterzoon's skin, because it worked for the last story to stay in Kat's skin all the time. It was more like the game, looking from the point of view of the player, anyhow that won't work for this story simply because it's going to be Jyhad heavy, intrigues, schemes within a scheme which Kat will never be able to spot and being the mean person I am, we'll never dive into LaCroix's skin. Jajajajajaja! Uh and sorry for my constant 'jajajaja' it's laughing in Spanisch and since San Lorenzo ow3ned Hurácan last week it's kind of stuck in my head at the moment.


	10. Eternity's Gate

**Celeste:** Well besides Cecilia there's no Kindred who likes LaCroix, because I wouldn't count Kat in. It's more love/hate/I-want-to-choke-that-ass! thing, uh you know what I mean...I hope, haha

**Thanks to Topgallant** (MOAR Jan!!111) and **rednightmare **(Poor Jan, the fate of being Dutch) **for the reviews!**

Edit: D'oh I so screwed up at naming the chapter...

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The silence of the neonate after Jan's question gave the answer away. For him it was very refreshing to talk with young Kindred instead of scheming Princes or Primogen. Young ones were so easy to see through, making all those complicated bargains refreshingly relaxing. Of course Jan was aware of Falkner's predicament, being dependent on the Prince's clemency. In the past his way crossed often with that of the French Ventrue, because of business and not to mention the fact that his sire Hardestadt was also one of Sebastian's mentors. What didn't quite fit into the puzzle was the fact that it seemed like she still maintained a free will. This wasn't Sebastian's diction, it never was and regarding all the accusations towards the Prince of L.A. Jan was sure that one of his key figures would be totally obedient towards him. All those accusations and rumours were the real reason why he had to visit Los Angeles. Though not yet an Archon he wielded all of those powers and authority and it seemed less like an open threat, however Jan never underestimated Sebastian. His clanmate was ambitious and his skill had taken him far without being a privileged childe like himself.

Jan revised all the facts in his mind for a brief moment. First, a majority of the Primogen were worried and scared in Jan's opinion. The recent Final Deaths of nearly all of them – exceptions being the Tremere and the Nosferatu Primogen – in a very short amount of time; such things happened in a contested territory, however the crucial point for the elders wanting him to take a deeper look into the affairs of Los Angeles was the treachery of Sir Richard Hargreaves. The elders of clan Ventrue were upset upon hearing that one of their selected Primogen was an antitribu, wagering that this was all a scheme inside a scheme. At least that was what Jan was thinking. As always the elders remained all silent about their real aims. Or was it more because of the rumours about the Ankaran Sarcophagus? Jan never believed in the myth of Caine and his Antediluvians, however voices were heard that Sebastian didn't want to take the artifact into Camarilla custody but wanted to use it for his own agenda, gaining power from the supposed-to-be-in-there sleeping Antediluvian. Such a Prince would threaten the Camarilla's credibility, which was a severe issue with regard to Los Angeles' political situation and their aim to reclaim it. Not to mention the rumours that Sebastian had forged an alliance with the Kuei-Jin. On the other hand the last rumour had sparked out more from the Anarch ranks. How much truth lay in there was in question and it was his assignment to find out the truth. However Jan couldn't deny that he was biased towards Sebastian. Organizing this city with European standards in mind, labelling all this Gehenna craze as a craze appealed to Jan, yet also using more unconventional methods to achieve victory over enemies was something he preached without pause. If the Camarilla didn't adapt at least some new elements of the modern time he feared they would slide into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Sebastian did adapt some new elements. In their conversation he'd labelled the Anarchs as some kind of guerrilla and terrorists, seeing the Camarilla as a force of oppression. They needed to convince them that they weren't and it would be a bad idea to treat them as such, rather taking care of the messes they created and maintaining the order. The Prince quoted Joseph Joubert about the topic: All are born to observe _order_, but few are born to establish it. _"Let them think of themselves as Anarchs, as long as they obey the laws of the Camarilla."_ Jan couldn't agree more, having seen powerful Princes slain because they were too sloppy or too engulfed in personal affairs to keep an eye on the Anarchs or even on their own childer, like the deceased Prince Garlotte of Baltimore whose Final Death was caused by his own progeny he probably Embraced out of feelings, which didn't suit clan Ventrue. There he got his bill. Which brought him back again to Sebastian. His childe was well chosen, albeit a bit too young in Jan's opinion. Anyway she had potential but needed a few decades of education, though he was still surprised that this was Sebastian's choice of childe, her being from an importing business of antiquities and all. The Prince had always been more focused on natural resources. Oil and diamonds from Africa, his newest addition to his corporation being a baby formula company. Perhaps he was searching for alternative branches. Still, there was something off Jan couldn't put his finger on; even more that he kept his childe pretty much out of the spotlight. Out of fear? Sebastian? Never, and he'd put her, this illegally-sired Kindred he now scrutinized, into all the politicking. Jan had a theory, albeit a very daring and farfetched one, but oddly enough with it everything made sense, only the reason was still in question.

"The Prince represents the Camarilla." Finally Fräulein Falkner was answering, however it was not really an answer and to be honest, Jan had only wanted to corner her. Usually he wouldn't bluntly ask such questions when dealing with more experienced Kindred.

"He does, that doesn't answer my question. Would you cover up for him, if he were to betray the Camarilla?" He dragged his glasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on. Then he opened up a file which rested on the table. "I am aware of your predicament, being dependent on the Prince, but your skill is widely recognised." Jan's plan was simple, yet efficient in his opinion. He could prove if his daring assumption was right and if not, he would have time to investigate the odds further. Katherine was young, however her achievements were astonishing and being the progeny of Alexander Turner, a mere common Ventrue of weaker blood it was so much more puzzling. "Rest assured that someone else will take care of you, if he wouldn't. In fact, I'm interested myself in your abilities." And he could see the surprise on the neonate's face. Jan speculated of course that Sebastian must have made several attempts to ensure her loyalties. That is why he observed the events in Los Angeles at first from Amsterdam and arrived very late in the city to prevent a hastily forced Blood Bond and it seemed he wasn't too late.

"I don't know what this is all about but the Prince never did anything to betray the Camarilla." It wasn't enough to shake off Jan Pieterzoon. Perhaps there was something else. It wasn't very polite to dive into the mind of a fellow clanmate but she wouldn't notice it.

"Sebastian said you opened the artifact, known as the Ankaran Sarcophagus, on your own without his permission." Her expression looked a bit sour. Seemed like it was a crucial spot.

"Yes I did it. I was curious to see why a whole city was in an uproar because of a thing which you can find in any museum." Slowly, her face showed less anger.

"Perhaps this was for the best. Sebastian wanted to open it in front of the Primogen to put an end to the ruckus about it. In an instant, the whole upper echelon of Kindred would have been obliterated." This would have been indeed a disaster but a major success for the Anarchs and Jan was tempted to believe this version more, also seeing that the neonate was very sensitive about this topic. Without a doubt, Sebastian's punishment must have been harsh despite the fact she'd saved all the important Kindred of this city with her indiscreet action. However it didn't fit in the frame that the Prince was after the mummy, even if he claimed that it was all part of his agenda. Sebastian may sometimes be reckless or even adapt modern ways, but he wouldn't put his life at stake like Jan also would never do it. How could he trust Katherine so much? There was a way to find it out. Jan caught the gaze of the young Ventrue, brushing shortly over some memories and found what he didn't expect to find. He couldn't read minds or anything thereof, but skilled in dominate he could sense anomalies. It was perfectly weaved into the memories, finely trimmed to fit into the thoughts perfectly with the craft of a master. The only reason why Jan didn't miss it was the fact that it seemed to already have been drawn forth a bit, violated by a stranger. It was enough evidence now to think that his theory wasn't so farfetched anymore, to look deeper into it. "About Sir Hargreaves who betrayed the Camarilla: did you really encounter him?"

"Yes. It was him who instructed me in the barbaric ways of the Sabbat. I'm sure it was him, however the only lesson I drew forth from those teachings was, that such a disgusting way of life I don't want to live. It was a valuable lesson." He could spot the sincerity in the words, a flicker of pain in the eyes and Jan could only imagine what horrors she could mean with the word instruction. It reminded him a bit of Victoria, albeit she wasn't a single bit as beautiful as the seductive and enchanting Toreador.

"Allow me one last question, Fräulein Falkner." Putting down his glasses again and placing them on the table, Jan leaned back into his seat as the woman nodded. "Would you accept my request to accompany me back to Amsterdam when I'm finished here? I would be from this point on your mentor." He was the childe of Hardestadt. If she were to decline his offer it would be a sign of foolishness, or something else. Sebastian seemed not to have warned her about the possibility that Jan would ask her about events regarding the Prince. Either he was really not aware of it – which Jan hardly doubted – or he simply had nothing to hide. Another possibility could be that Sebastian just wanted to give this impression, so that Jan would let loose. As much as he knew Sebastian, Sebastian knew him.

"It sounds intriguing. I'd like to think about it first, please, but I would really like to go back to Europe." Roots never withered fast and Amsterdam wasn't as far away from her roots as Los Angeles was.

"Of course and as a sign of my sincerity, I'd like to give you some advice about one of our clan gifts." Everything Jan now said was aimed at finding more clues, even the offer to take her under his wing was carefully planned and now executed. "How far have you gotten with ensnaring the mortal mind? If you feed on them, how do you do it so you don't violate the Masquerade?"

"Well, I order them to sleep, so they don't witness it." Like he thought.

"With enough practice you can erase their memories about those events but not only this, also any other memories you can draw forth but you need to have knowledge of it. With even more practice you will be able to instill false memories." It was really amusing how the eyes of the neonate went larger. "The next step would be ensnaring a mind over time, filling their minds with subtle whispers and urges. They will grow more open to your will, however, they lose a lot of their so refreshing passion and imagination, becoming limp husks like..." He massaged his bridge of the nose. "...yes, like the Prince's Sheriff." Carefully Jan gazed over his hand at the neonate, noticing how confused she was.

"Whispers? Isn't that something only the Malkavians can do with their dementation?" Again Jan was pleased that he'd hit the right spot. Young ones were so easy to manipulate.

"If they instill fear and madness? Yes, but if they give you urges you've never had, then I have to disappoint you." That really looked like Sebastian and his subtle manipulating but he must have recognised that someone like Katherine was more useful not being like an automaton, unlike the Sheriff.

"This is...interesting. I thank you for the advice." Jan stood up from his chair, reaching out to the neonate a hand as a sign that this conversation was now over and she was allowed to go, thinking about what he had said to her.

"I have to thank you for the insight. Please, one of my assistants will lead you out." Jan opened the door, where one of his trusted entourage waited to guide Katherine out. As the door was shut again, he sat down on the chair, putting on his glasses again.

"You've watched all of her steps and nothing unusual?" he said into the empty room.

"Like you ordered boss. Nothing unusual. Should I watch her some more?" Jan knew that behind his chair stood Gary Golden, Primogen of clan Nosferatu in this city, his eyes and ears as he waited in Amsterdam and here in this hotel.

"Does the Prince suspect anything?" Nosferatu were useful but never trust them blindly.

"Hard to say, boss. It's even hard for us to get as far as into his penthouse. You Ventrue have some kind of unjustified paranoia." Laughing with his rough voice, Gary expressed his amusement. "Sorry boss, my humour. She waltzed in with my childe and some Caitiff, babbling about killing some treacherous poor Toreador. That was a view! Haha! The Caitiff peeled off the beautiful face like a banana." So much for Sebastian's part of not being oppressors. "You have to give the little Ventrue credit for not being dumb, running into a bar full of Anarchs to kill one of their pretty faces." Mhm, that was something Jan thought was important but was unable think about it right now, so he stored it somewhere in the back of his mind to think about later. First he wanted to hear Gary's report. "Le phénix ruse really has some nerves." Jan raised an eyebrow.

"Who?" Often the Nosferatu liked to show off that they were the ones with the better information. They let you know that you needed them and Jan knew how to play the game to stay on the good side of the Sewer Rats.

"Hahaha, well that is the cute nickname for our Prince, given by his cute lovely little soldier you just interviewed." _'This was quite, intriguing.' _As for the last bit of information, Jan stored it to think about later. As entertaining as this bit of knowledge was. "But nothing more of interest."

"What is important and what is not is for me to decide. Please, tell me everything. That's why I pay you." Gary chuckled and sat now on the chair which was formerly occupied by Katherine, grinning a bright cheerful smile. Jan's assistant came back, bringing a glass of whiskey the Ventrue liked to smell. Even if he wasn't able to drink it anymore, he probably couldn't live without it.

"Well, then listen boss. Gary Golden's screen time is very limited these days, haha!"

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AN: The chapter title is totally stolen from one of Vincent van Gogh's paintings "At Eternity's Gate". I really enjoyed to write from Jan's perspective and to weave in a connection to LaCroix. Never underestimate the Ventrue old boy connections! More so every signature character of VtM has something to do with another signature character so I thought that would be quite funny to stick together the French and the Dutch. It gave me also the opportunity to flesh out LaCroix and what kind of business he's making his billions with.

I will ignore at large the events in the concluding book of the Clan Novel Saga, like Vykos telling Jan some secrets. No doubt I'm a canon freak but I'm really tempted to ignore Gehenna (besides if I would use the canon timeline everything would be blasted by now). As much as I see the problems VtM has, being the Forgotten Realms of Dark Horror, I'm very nostalgic about it and hope to manage it to make Kat not a stupid bystander while to bigwigs manage all the important stuff, but don't morph her into a Sue. It's a real challenge.


	11. Blue Beating

**Celeste:** Oh yes, we'll learn this way some more about the man, who managed it to survive for 200 years and become Prince of LA. He may be still the Jester sometimes, however the Anarchs schould be careful now, hehe.

**And thanks to Maellowyn **(Sind nicht alle Ventrue intrigante Schleimbeutel? Poor Jan. Loosing his ground against the most despised Prince ever is hard, haha and Vivienne is FAST in betareading, so it's all thanks to her with the fast updates)** for the review!**

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The racing mind caused by her conversation with Pieterzoon felt like a drunken stupor. Katherine walked like a zombie into the elevator, thinking about the last pieces of information she needed to swallow. First of all was the fact about those voices she'd always thought to be caused by Ophelia's dementation. Could they actually have been caused by LaCroix? What if this was a lie from the Dutch for whatever reason, but then he couldn't possibly know about it. She'd never told anyone! Could it really be true that the Prince was influencing her in such a deep and subtle way? Would she end up like a walking dead just like the Sheriff? It was an answer for why he never talked and only acted when LaCroix gave him an order. Anger rose once more up her throat, feeling how the Beast scratched again in its cage, but furiously walking into the Venture Tower and yelling at the Prince would achieve nothing. This much she'd learned. It was more symbolic than necessary but Katherine took some deep breaths, trying to calm her chaotic mind and the thoughts of anger running amok, to simply choke LaCroix so that he would spit out what was true and what was not. Again: Why should Mr. Pieterzoon have lied to her? First of all to turn her away from LaCroix. Simple. He was there to dig up dirty stuff, however he played with open cards towards her and she wasn't so naive as to think her clanmate would underestimate her loyalty to the Prince. Yes, he was right about being very deep in his clutches and it would mean Final Death for her to upset him even once more; also there was the order to report such meetings to LaCroix but regarding all the ruckus inside her it wasn't for the best. Katherine needed a plan. Her hot temper brought her enough complications and this trait was to blame for a lot of things which had gone wrong in the past. Once she'd failed to realise it during her time in the military. An officer needed to have a calm head while the surroundings were a maelstrom of chaos. Wasn't that also what a Ventrue should do? Think carefully about their actions and how to make the next step without charging into it like a raging idiot? Without a doubt the offer the Dutch Ventrue made was very compelling, going back to Europe and furthermore he seemed unlike LaCroix. In fact, if she compared both Mr. Pieterzoon was more...human. Good, first and foremost was to get information about him to make sure she didn't run blindly into her doom like the last time with the Sabbat flirtation. Was he trustworthy? Who was this Hardestadt guy? After that she could evaluate the information he had given her as true or false, or at least possible. And for information there were the Nosferatu. Not a comforting thought to crawl into Gary's domain but well, Imalia should be a possible address for such a matter and it was more of an automatic gesture to pull out a cigarette. Shortly Katherine stared at it but then decided to throw the whole packet away. Time to stop smoking and it cost money she didn't have anyway.

Shoving all other looping and upsetting thoughts back into some abandoned part of her brain where they could only occasionally knock, Katherine made her way into the Nosferatu warrens, walking uncomfortably through Gary's dinner room and expecting the Primogen to pop out any minute for whatever reason he had, though it didn't seem like he wanted to. Fine with her, so she crawled through the narrow ways and reached Imalia's door. After five minutes of knocking without getting a response, Katherine took the liberty of simply stepping in.

"Hey, Imalia! You're there?" Opening the door and spotting the Nosferatu at her computer, Katherine closed the door. The former supermodel watched her monitor intensely which radiated a faint cold light, showing various opened windows with pictures of an apartment where two people were sitting on a couch. Was that female one Tawni Sessions? "Sorry for the intrusion but you didn't answer and ---"

"Shhhhh!" The sharp and annoyed hissing of Imalia interrupted her. "Can't you see I'm busy?" she snapped at the Ventrue and didn't even bother to turn her eyes away from the computer.

"Tawni won't run away and I need information. Look, I'll pay for it." _'Somehow,'_ was silently added and not said out loud.

"Fuck off! Missing the vital thing won't be payable! So get out!" Great, once you really needed some help and the only person able to help you was obsessed with watching some kind of private Big Brother.

"Yeah, she could flash some titty again!" a voice echoed and Imalia suddenly grabbed a plastic Hello Kitty figure and threw it with such vigour in a direction that the poor plastic cat shattered to pieces.

"Out! Out you stupid idiots! GET OUT! All of you!" And Katherine went out backwards to keep an eye on Imalia and the other things which still were standing on her desk so they wouldn't stake her like some really sharp looking pencils, however the laughing voice which yelled 'titties' again and again all the time didn't stop.

"Hahaha, she's in her bitch rage again. Since yesterday night, our pin up girl has been staring at the little peepshow." Next to Katherine, a Nosferatu appeared, looking fairly normal in comparison to the fact that he was, well a Nosferatu. He wasn't crouching and hadn't a lot of disfigurements, looking more like a mixture of a human and a bat, wearing a black t-shirt with jeans and sneakers. Katherine just sighed heavily. "Remember me? You shot me out of that damn experimental laboratory in Chinatown." It needed some seconds until it made a click.

"Barabus?" It was more of a question than a realisation.

"Yeah, 100 points! Thanks again. The shit they did with me still gives me nightmares. So you want some information and that's my business and I owe you some." Barabus was without a doubt someone who knew his, well what did he called it? Kung-fu? To normal people it was hacking of some sort but well. He'd gotten them out of the Fu Syndicate with his computer skills, while Katherine held the line of fire and so she doubted that he would deceive her. Taking the lead, Barabus guided her into his room or whatever the Nosferatu called their more or less private space. It was full of racks with action figures of Batman, some comics, while the walls were fittingly decorated with said posters of the comic hero. "Welcome to the Batcave! So, what can I do for you?"

"Information about Mr. Jan Pieterzoon of clan Ventrue and his sire Hardestadt." It sounded a bit irritated and her gaze was still scrutinizing the surroundings.

"You're kidding right? You don't know about those two? For this I don't even need to use Kung-Fu, so listen: Euroboy, ah sorry Mr. Pieterzoon, is THE Camarilla goody-goody. During the Sabbat siege on Baltimore it was him who held the line. Yeah, he's damn good at this and a fucking name in the Camarilla. Privileged like a damn Archon because his sire is an elder of the Camarilla, one of the founders." Katherine was in desperate need of a chair. "Can you imagine what panic ran through our ranks when Pieterzoon showed up in the city? Everyone was thinking the Sabbat was waiting in front of the city."

"Well, I don't know about Baltimore." So much information. How in all heavens should she handle all this? So from the start. Pieterzoon was in short trustworthy. Did the larger audience know about his intentions or only the story that he searched for Beckett? And he was a huge call in the Camarilla. Getting into those circles was _extremely_ compelling, but still there was a part of her which refused to leave Los Angeles. Was it really a part of her or only the urge LaCroix had instilled through his domination in her? Pieterzoon couldn't have knowledge of that, meaning the information about their clan gift was perhaps simply out of good will and that he was genuinely interested in her skills. LaCroix on the other hand seemed to leave her stupid on purpose, to manipulate her better.

"Baltimore..." Barabus sat down on the ground cross-legged. "...in 1999 the Sabbat started a huge attack on Camarilla cities, driving us out of countless ones, even New York and Washington D.C. It was pure damn chaos, not to mention a total madness in Buffalo. Damn, it seemed like the whole East Coast was going to fall into Sabbat hands. I don't know the details but that was the time when the Gangrel left the Camarilla. Pretty dark times I tell you." So that explained why there were no Gangrel Primogen among the council. "Instead of the Gangrel, we got some Assamites. Not a good trade, I tell you." Katherine had read about them in Strauss' book about the Sabbat. Usually independent, some Assamites joined the Sabbat. Dreadful diablerists and assassins, skilled in killing silently without a trace. Just like, well assassins.

"I see. Any knowledge about what Mr. Pieterzoon wants in Los Angeles?" Spilling out what he had told her in private would be a very bad idea and also not very wise. This could be a test on how well she could keep her mouth shut.

"It's not a secret that his sire has some grudge against Beckett, because of him being a Noddist scholar and stuff, but people whisper that it is because of Prince LaCroix's little explosive accident, or yours...eeh, but don't shoot me for that, will you?" So things leaked out faster than you'd even know of.

"Don't worry, I simply wanted to know it and won't resent you for that." Trouble was at hand, that much was sure. Katherine was able to tell it from the start as LaCroix's damn limousine parked in front of the LAPD to get her to the tower; besides if there was someone to blame for the 'truth' of who opened the sarcophagus, then it was LaCroix. Sure he said that she'd earned the right to open it, so it was on his behalf. What would he say if she blubbered that out now? Another Blood Hunt? Probably. That was – in a term of cruel irony – the upside of LaCroix. Katherine knew him better than Pieterzoon, and thus was somewhat able to predict his reactions and actions more or less. It was now up to her to ask how honest the Prince was with the things he said to her. "Thanks Barabus for the information. They are worth a lot."

"You saved my pretty ass. It's worth it," he grinned. Being Sewer Rats and the least clan regarding popularity, she couldn't really point out why her clan despised the Nosferatu so much. Well they weren't appealing for the eye, were hands down creepy and dwelling in the sewers but not that bad. In her opinion clan Brujah was worse. Or the Tremere in terms of creepiness.

"Take care not to risk your pretty ass once more, because there won't be a second sarcophagus Gary can sell off to the Giovanni." He should thank Gary a bit more for forcing her to get him out of the Mandarin's claws. However Barabus took it with humour and Katherine could hear his laugh even outside of his room, being replaced by the constant whispering you could hear in the warrens. At least it didn't disturb her thoughts which needed some attention to add the new information given by Barabus about Pieterzoon. Actually she didn't want to leave Los Angeles, having the aim in mind not to run away from problems and obstacles; however should she let such an opportunity pass? Having the childe of a Camarilla founder as mentor was a chance she would most likely never have a second time, coming down to the simple question: false pride or was she again lying to herself to avoid LaCroix, tending to accept Pieterzoon's offer?

All the way back from Hollywood to Downtown Katherine was pondering, weighing the arguments and still didn't have an answer. Every sane argument was to accept the offer, however a not insignificant part of her refused to listen to all logic and wanted to stay. No doubt it must be the effect of the Blood Bond from which the Prince himself seemed unaffected. Must be, because he was older and more powerful, whereas Katherine was only a young neonate, so what can you do against the effects of the potent blood of an elder? Right: leave to escape his clutches and run into others and for some seconds, the familiar beat of the Confession's DJ shooed away those thoughts. Leaving the club and Venus behind wasn't something she would grieve over so this was not a pro for staying in Los Angeles.

"Was a pretty long talk you had." Simon seemed not to have left his position next to the door where he had a good view of Heather.

"Something unusual happened during my absence?" Talking about her conversation with Mr. Pieterzoon and what else she'd learned was out of question. How could a Caitiff understand this? It was better to simply ignore it. Simon shrugged as a sign that everything was calm. "Good. I'm up in Venus' office if something happens." It wasn't the most quiet place she could think of but at least a bit more safe than the cemetery – besides THAT would be a bad cliché – or any other spot in L.A. Katherine was still worried about Anarch payback for killing Kent Alan Ryan.

"I knew you'd show up. I swear you are all like, totally drawn to me. I'm surprised I don't know you. I usually meet all the L.A. vampires out on the scene. Not a lot of you out tonight, which is weird, cuz I don't know of any parties going on." The voice from the side was so annoying, false and stressed, that Katherine was more irritated than somewhat angry.

"She's asking everyone," Simon growled into the Ventrue's direction and then looked away again as fast as possible.

"I'm sorry but can I help you? As the owner of this club I'm busy you know. We have some gothic fans here but no vampire fans." Turning around, a kine was standing there, smiling broadly but it was more unsettling that this, well girl, said vampire to her and on top of that was saying this to everyone.

"No, come on. I'm Patty. Seriously; everyone knows me. Besides, I just wanted to ask you if you've seen someone." A short glance to Simon told her that he was absolutely ignoring the conversation. What a shame, he could learn something about what to do when some human was walking towards you, calling you a vampire.

"Well of course. Who is it you're looking for?" Even if her behaviour was irritating, like an addict on the verge of withdrawal. That was when Katherine identified her as a ghoul.

"His name is Kent Alan Ryan, he's a Toreador really good looking, dresses really well, like all Prada usually." Oh great. She'd busted Ryan and now had his ghoul standing in her club and squirting around that there were vampires. Now she knew why Simon ignored it and it was a wise decision to let her do the talking.

"Sorry I don't know someone by this name. Try your luck in some other clubs or bars. The Last Round perhaps?" They should deal with their licks, however Patty was now looking desperate to the bone.

"No! Look. I haven't seen him in days. He said he'd come see me again and they said at The Last Round he would be here!" Pledging, nearly cracked up voice, the shrieking hurt Katherine's ears but more was she annoyed by the fact that the Anarchs actually sent that ghoul into her club on purpose to annoy her and to endanger the Masquerade on top of that. Two flies with one hit to piss off the Prince's protégé. "He promised. I might age. He promised I wouldn't get thirsty." So, how could she turn the tide? Well it was an option to simply kill her but still that was something unnecessary if you could avoid it. Patty wasn't to her taste. Simple, so to adapt her as a ghoul for herself was a waste of blood.

"It's okay, I understand. I'll help you." Katherine smiled while she was thinking of a plan. _'Let's see. No risk of endangering the Masquerade but pay back for the Anarchs, meaning an elegant solution.'_

"You are totally awesome. Well, it just goes to show you that you don't have to dress cool or have a lot of power to be a cool person." The ghoul sounded also a bit more relieved, calmer, nonetheless her voice was still on the verge of cracking which indicated she could totally snap at any given moment.

"Let's go into my office and think about how we can find Kent Alan, okay?" Easy task to persuade a drug addict on withdrawal. Leading the ghoul up into the only private room in the Confession, Katherine closed the door and set up her most possible friendly face. Here the surroundings would be quiet enough to dominate Patty. Catching the gaze of the ghoul's brown eyes, Katherine prepared every word carefully.

"It pains me to tell you but whoever said you would find Kent Alan here lied to you and knew it. _You should go there and ask them._" Strange. As an addict and a kine on top of that, Katherine should've been able to easily dominate Patty, however the Ventrue was able to feel the heavy resistance from her. Quite strange.

"No, they said you would know it! They wouldn't lie!" Again Patty's voice was shrieking, desperate and Katherine concentrated more to break her will.

"It was a lie, because they're hiding him from you. I don't know why of course but they do. Perhaps he's simply too good looking, sprouting envy among others. Damsel had a crush on him. Perhaps she wants to get rid of you and keep Kent Alan for herself. _Trust me_." Still there was resistance to be felt but it slowly crumbled.

"It...makes sense...but why...I...never knew about that and Kent, he ---" Placing her hand on Patty's shoulder, Katherine interrupted her, being a bit surprised that it was quite an effort to dominate the ghoul, so perhaps it would be helpful to let the other gift of her clan aide her.

"You ever encountered Damsel?" The ghoul nodded slowly, like in a trance with a small glimpse of surprise as she was struck by the Ventrue's presence. "Then you know her bad temper. She could have threatened him not to meet you, else they would hurt you so he is forced to hide and they know for sure. They sent you here to accuse me of this, right?" Now the last resistance of the ghoul's mind was shattered, leaving her open to whatever Katherine wanted her to do. If only she could utilize the ability to alter memories that Mr. Pieterzoon mentioned.

"No, that wasn't the case. They just said you would know, but that Damsel is envious and this does make sense." At last this was working.

"Then _go to The Last Round_ and free Kent Alan. But be careful okay? In the alley next to my club is someone who has stuff, so that you can protect yourself. Say I have sent you and he'll give it to you." It's not like she wanted to send Patty to her death and most certainly in the current state the ghoul was the Anarchs could reach a bit offended to say the least. Even more so because Katherine had sent the little annoying present back and with a satisfied smile, she sat down on the couch to spent the rest of the night pondering about what to do. Even the following night she still thought about her options and which words to choose if she had to approach LaCroix to tell him about her meeting with Mr. Pieterzoon, and finally how to pick the right words to tell him the decision she'd just made. However this was interrupted by the loud shattering of glass and a furious shout by Simon which drowned the rhythmic beating of the music, followed by a horrified high pitched scream of pain from Heather.

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AN: Some *really* short summary what happened in the Clan Novels by Barabus and why there's no Gangrel Primogen in my story. I was pretty much surprised by the fact that in the game you could even play the clan, rather than Assamite but uh well. Gangrel is of course more popular even with the fact the majority of them have left the Camarilla, because Jan, Theo Bell and the Prince of Baltimore Garlotte (and the whole other attendants there, haha) pissed off Justicar Xavier, not listening to his talk about an risen Antediluvian near Buffalo what was in fact 'just' a very powerful artifact: The eye of Hazimel (GIEEV MEE THAA EYEE! - sorry, couldn't resist).


	12. Special: Fatal Addiction

**Thanks to Sazei **(I also love the game, else I would write FF about it, hehe), **Maellowyn** (nicht ganz Wochenende aber ich denke das ist nicht schlimm), **sister-b** (I liked Barabus's t-shirt), **dragonfly2003** (the Pen & Paper rules give way more room for intrigues, hehe) and **rednightmare** (it's a Nosferatu fanfest!) **for the reviews!**

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It felt like an empty hole in her heart. Since yesterday Patty had this strange feeling that something was missing besides the blood from Kent. Her lovely, beautiful Kent. She loved him as much as she could love anyone. He was her life, her everything and now he was somehow gone and it was not only the cry for his blood which made her horrified to lose him, but also not being near him, not being able to please him so that he would give her one of his heart-flattering smiles! But the greatest horror, however, was to age. She'd known Kent for nearly twenty years. Twenty years of being his ghoul with the appearance of a teenager and without his blood, she would look like a woman in her mid-thirties! Withered, an old hag, ugly, not desirable anymore. The party would be over and this thought was nearly worse than the _need_ of blood. Patty wouldn't let loose. She would find Kent and even if what that stupid vampire over at the Confession said sounded like idiocy to her at first, it was some kind of convincing. At first Patty thought it was ridiculous but this was slowly replaced by the urge to really ask the vampires over at The Last Round. They were Kent's friends or whatever but she simply wanted to ask them because the vampire in the Confession was somehow trustworthy. Being near her felt a bit like being near Kent – of course she wasn't as nearly as cool and awesome as Kent – and something told her to trust the woman and then all made sense! Kent would never engage himself with such a bitch and ugly hag as Damsel! Of course the red-haired thug would then take other measures, because Kent was out of her reach. He had style and taste in fine women like Patty of course, not in butches like Damsel.

Reaching the dark alley the vampire had told her to go to for some security measures, Patty looked around giving the street thugs a suspicious look and then spotting a fat guy near a truck, clothed in a jersey of the L.A. Lakers. He wore sunglasses, an afro and, well, was disgustingly fat. Could that be the guy she meant?

"Baby girl! Welcome to Fat Larry's truck of mack – the only store for all your needs after ten o'clock." She had no time for a rapping wannabe 2Pac.

"Yeah, nice...some vampire there at the Confession sent me and said you have some things for...security." Nervously her eyes shifted around. The urge for blood was so overwhelming!

"Oh, man, you been feedin' on the rock, girl? Nah... nah, nah, baby, I don't sell none o' that no mo'." Larry shook his head and leaned against the truck. "I got watches, got jerseys, got stereos – this week only I got a Galapagos tortoise – man, I got what you need guaranteed!"

"Not that man! How should I defend myself with a cheap watch?" That rapping stressed her nerves and Patty could hear how her voice was jumping an octave higher.

"Hey, so you like the pipe. Didn't say I wouldn't sell you nothing. Chill! Peep this gear I got." He turned around and opened the back of the truck for a small gap. "Yo' come here and look at this." Patty pulled her jacket tighter around her as she stepped forward to look at the interior of the truck. There she saw what she needed. Some guns, knives. Not that she had a lot of experience with guns. She was a party girl and not a fucked up wannabe female Rambo, however a knife should do the job and she didn't have much time or money.

"A knife." And the last thing she needed was to get caught with a gun. Larry handed over a pretty huge butcher thing, but she was dealing with vampires so it was suitable and without losing more words, Patty hurried to The Last Round. She needed the blood! It was all her mind was coming up with. The knife was hidden in her short jeans jacket, a hand clasped around it like it was her last anchor to rescue her from despair. The door opened and the loud music hit her ears. How could Kent spend time in this horrible hole? The music hurt her ears every time. Techno was so much more to her taste! Immediately she nearly ran up the stairs to confront Damsel but was blocked by this huge hulk whose name she'd already forgotten again.

"What do you want here again lick?" Nerves already on the edge it took a lot of restraint not to scream, regardless of the annoyed look the vampire gave her.

"You have him. Where is he?" Barely those words came out the ghoul's mouth. Kent said he would be gone for a while, doing some stuff. No parties for a change but he would come back today. He promised.

"Listen junkie, we already said he's dead and the Cammy at the Confession knows." The black vampire rolled his eyes, annoyed and pissed but Patty didn't give a damn.

"She told me the truth! Damsel...lies! Kent can't be dead. I need him, I need blood." Her body began to shake and on her skin she could feel cold sweat. To speak, to move, even to think straight was exhausting, like her body was ceasing to function. An engine without fuel. The vampire snarled angrily but shit who cared! She was a ghoul and hung out with more powerful vampires than this huge idiot! Besides it was despair which spoke out of her actions, and which pushed her body forward. A last glimpse of hope to get what she needed and Patty tried to scramble past the man.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed and grabbed her by the shoulders, preventing letting her upstairs.

"Damsel! She knows! Let me go!" Metal flashed out of the jacket, drawn as fast as possible, aimed at the vampire's stomach but it was stopped and even before Patty could recognise it she was thrown away, landing on her back.

"Shit! Damn you! Your sugar daddy won't come now get the fuck off!" Kent couldn't be dead, it was impossible! Hot tears watered in her eyes, smudging the eyeliner and stray sobs came out of her throat.

"Skelter? What the fuck is going on down there?" There! Damsel! It was Damsel's voice!

"You have Kent! I know it! Give him back! He doesn't love you, he loves me!" The red-haired hag appeared on the stairs, as far as Patty could see it. Her vision was blurred because of the tears and the craving for Kent's blood. Giving that guy Skelter a gaze, Damsel seemed to talk to him. Only fragments of the conversation reached Patty's ears, like "shitty Cammy" or "dominated" as Damsel stepped towards her.

"Fine," the hag said. "Come with me to the alley, I'll send Kent there and never come here again, understand?" Those words were spat into her face but that wasn't important anymore. She would have Kent back, get her blood, wouldn't age! Hastily Patty crawled back on her feet and stumbled out of the bar, hearing a last mumble from Damsel, "Fucking Ventrue bitch." At the alley the jacket was again tightened around her, because despite the hot summer night she felt so cold that her teeth were chattering like a rattlesnake. Where was Kent?

"Okay, fucking junkie. That was the last time you piss me off!" Abruptly the ghoul turned around, staring directly at Damsel again.

"Wh-what are you doing here? Where's Kent?" Fear spoke out of her.

"When I'm done with you, I'll kick that bitch's ass! Arrgh! That boot licker makes me sick! Sorry lick, you've made the wrong move and you're getting annoying." Even before she spotted her own knife in Damsel's hand, it was driven right into her lower torso and again and again and again. So fast that the ten stabs had already perforated her before she even started to bleed. Slowly Patty saw her own hands touching the wounds, feeling hot blood oozing out of them as she collapsed on the ground. "Fuck! SHit on what Nines said! That bootlicker will pay..." Patty saw only how Damsel's boots turned around, vanishing like the swearing vampire, leaving her alone, bleeding, sobbing. Tears blurred her vision again, the vitae not sufficient to heal the stab wounds. It hurt. It hurt so much but more than that, something different was overshadowing the burning pain in her abdomen: the knowledge that Kent was really dead. Gone. That was the empty hole in her heart she'd felt since yesterday night.

"I simply wanted to live...wanted to see you again..." Patty whispered on the dirty asphalt. "...I wanted us to have a---a party forever...Kent." There was his smile before her eyes. One last smile for the ghoul before she died in the very same dark, lonely alley as her beloved regent.

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AN: You still want to kill Patty? Mhm? MHMMM? Kidding. Wasn't I supposed to write something funny? Oh well, a small gift for Sazei and all my diligent reviewers! I would be lying to claim I absolutely don't write for feedback. A part of my ego of course does, else I wouldn't have started to upload it. And what can I say? I'm overwhelmed by all the huge positive feedback so this is a small "Thank you" for the encouragement, the kind words and the support you give with your reviews, being a huge drive for me to write and knowing it doesn't suck ass. It's like a drug...uh...wait a minute? Isn't the story's message that drugs are bad? Bah, screw it! Need drugs, onomnom. And last but not least again my beta reader Vivienne who is always fast with correcting everything.

This was a short throw-in, because this week I probably won't have time to write the next 'real' chapter, however, if you want occasionally such little side-stories just let me know. They must of course fit into it and be somewhat close to the current events (i.e something like "LaCroix's night at the beach" won't fit).


	13. Dirty Dancing

**Celeste:** I think Larry's truck is a huge aquarium in disguise! After writing out of Patty's perspective I'll never be able to kill her again...

**Thanks to sister-b **(I guess Damsel will spend it on Ventrue-beatup, special Anarch trait), **Sazei** (YOu are so soulless! Poor Patty! Oh yes and that will backfire on Kat, haha), **Maellowyn **(Girls don't you have a heart? Yukie sounds good, Pisha is reserved and Beckett? Yes, he'll pop up at some time), **rednightmare **(You're all bad persons! sympathy for Patty! Joking, hehe. You let a bit mercy shimmer through), **Zaekka **(depressiv? Das Kapitel war nur PSA! Bißchen Moral für die Kinners)** and dropletsoflight** (I hope this meets up ypur expectations) **for the reviews! They are a huge support for me!****  
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At least the music didn't stop and Katherine was looking down at the entrance. She wouldn't plunge blindly out of the Confession's office without getting an overview of the current situation; besides this behaviour had often saved her undead butt during the sarcophagus course. Anyway she was glad that Venus hadn't turned up the music in the Confession to an ear-smashing volume, else it would have also been impossible for the vampire to have heard the noises.

The scenery was not what she expected, however it was quite alarming. Her first thought was that it could be a group of drunken kine. How she wished she were right! It was Damsel, in the company of two other Kindred. Simon leaned with his back against the cash counter, touching the back of his head. It was hard to spot any more details from this far away and of course with a bunch of people gathering at the said spot. _'Great, just what I need now.'_ Of course it was possible to shoot at them from the higher platform she was standing on, but that was really not an option to consider and beating them up eye to eye was kind of suicide. Talking it out? Well at least she needed to _try_. Upon nearing the scene, Katherine could spot more details like the shattered glass of the cash counter where Simon probably had been thrown against it. Of Heather she couldn't get a glimpse, well other things came first. Better not to step down and take the heat directly.

"...bring her out and we'll talk about that outside!" she could hear Damsel snarl angrily at Simon.

"Why should I?" His answer was more of a growl.

"Okay people, the show is over. Just go and have fun again, nothing to see here." At first the humans needed to get out of the line and her dominant voice, trained during her time with the military police, helped to send at least some of them away. Gladly this was also kind of a standard situation she'd often encountered there, when drunken soldiers were brawling in a pub or disco. Sadly those down there weren't soldiers but vampires, which made the case somewhat more difficult.

"Argh! You! You damn bootlicker!" Immediately Damsel shoved herself through the ring of humans, shaking her fist at Katherine who stood out of her reach. "Come down here and I'll pay you back for that shit!" So Patty had showed up at The Last Round.

"Venus? Have you called the police? Damage to property and threatening is something I don't like." Anarchs or not, they at least respected the Masquerade and if they were to barge into a club full of humans, they had to deal with the mortal consequences.

"Fuck you bitch! Come down here and let me polish your face, or else we'll blow this shitty club up!" One of Damsel's companions started to laugh and hit his open palm demonstratively with a bat.

"Why not instantly and beat her licks up?" Pointing the bat at the counter, he started to laugh again and the other two joined his laughter to signal their approval. A muffled squeal could be heard which was probably Heather. Did they really think Venus and her were ghouls?

"You know the rules. They have no idea what's going on so keep your hands off them. I'm sure we can find a solution to this predicament." Again laughter from the two other Anarchs while Damsel's anger was only fuelled by those words.

"God you make me sick! You really sound like that fascist LaCroix's offspring, standing high and mighty up there while others take the blows! Get down or I'll come up!" The comparison to LaCroix made her twitch a second. That was bad. Katherine had not the slightest inclination to go down. Really. She liked her hide; however it would really be bad to leave Simon alone down there, not to mention that they would damage her club. The financial loss would be not so nice and hopefully Venus had called the police by now. And she hated to be compared to LaCroix! With gritted teeth, the Ventrue walked slowly towards the meandering stairs, her eyes spotting the fuse panel. The stairs were surrounded by solid walls with no possibility of looking through. Wait! Again it was more of a habit to inhale and exhale air slowly. It helped her to concentrate, and wasn't it an important trait for an officer to be able to think straight even when under pressure? Exactly. She could shut off the power. Simon was probably able to see in the dark which would give him an advantage. Heather seemed to have taken cover underneath the cash counter right behind the door, so just in case Katherine needed to she could pull her out of the fire and then shoot everything which came through that door. Even in pitch black darkness it shouldn't be impossible to hit a target who was standing in a doorway, and if Simon couldn't see as good as she thought? Well that was pretty bad, however Katherine needed time so that the police could get in or even the Sheriff. At least this was an attack on Camarilla territory but her bet wasn't on the help of the Prince, so perhaps the Scourge might come but they usually patrolled the city's borders. Still this was her best option to get out of the hit relatively unharmed, so she shut off the main electricity, then immediately opened the door somehow. _'Glad to be so familiar with our club, Venus,'_ trying to grab something that felt like Heather.

"Get them Simon!" Katherine shouted, and as an answer she could hear the bashing impact of wood against wood where the said Caitiff should be sitting, followed by some screams of scared humans and Damsel's loud cussing about fucking, wimpy Cammys. Crawling prone, slowly forward, all senses heightened, she finally got a hold on something soft and warm as another blow from a hard object shattered the last pieces of glass from the counter, raining them down and thankfully leaving her without a wound. Heather let out another scared squeal, and even more as someone tried to open the door violently. Not wasting more time, Katherine pulled Heather out of the room and into the one she'd come from herself, thanking one of her instructors at the military who'd let them practise pulling comrades out of the line of fire this way, till they could do it during sleep.

Not a second too late as the sound of a door cracked open was heard and chaos among everyone else in the Confession. Should she really dare to shoot? The gun was dragged out, aiming in the direction which was _probably_ the door and _probably _Damsel. Crap that was way too risky, so she simply held still, while Heather started to sob. _'Mist, Mist...bleib ruhig.'_ It was hard to soothe herself, to keep a cool head through all the ruckus while having no idea what was going on in front of her, not even being able to hear the steps of the person through all the noise. This way she could have at least guessed better who it was, but considering the person broke the door open it had to be one of the Anarchs. Still Katherine hesitated to shoot, considering the police could arrive. Furthermore her heritage was to blame, the social structures where she grew up. In Germany you didn't start shooting around like an idiot and the laws about guns were extremely strict. _'Damn...all of them!'_ Using blood to increase her strength, Katherine jumped up, leaping forward with her shoulder and tackling right into the person. Ironically she could feel breasts where she rammed her shoulder into. _'Oh great.'_ Only one thought was able to pass her brain as a fist landed in her stomach and another hit right after that so impossibly fast that it couldn't be human.

"Got you bitch!" Damsel hissed and Katherine could feel an air draught pass by her face. So Damsel wasn't able to see in the dark like herself. As long as Katherine could evade her hits, she had a small chance. Still, it was a bad situation.

"You can still leave my club and we forget all of this." Stumbling a bit backwards, Katherine tried to guess how far Damsel was now standing. It was a very tight space they were in; anyway she knew the proportions better.

"You killed Kenny, and sent his lick back to us. My answer bootlicker? Eat this!" Katherine had no idea how Damsel could aim this precisely or if it was pure luck that the heel of the Brujah's hand exactly hit her mandible. She could hear how her own bones cracked, tasting her own blood because she also used it to look lively, so it was flowing around in her body. The blow sent her flying straight into a stone wall and she fell on the sobbing pile that was Heather. _'Shit!'_ Katherine could see stars, while pulsing pain emanated from her broken jaw. It was hard to get back on her feet. _'Damn, why always my jaw?'_

"Where did you go pussy? Can't you suck a real hit in the face, only LaCroix's dick? Even Alex put up more of a fight." The first insult dripped off of her. It didn't matter anymore because she had decided to leave the States but the second one was a step too far. Mentioning her treacherous sire who'd just Embraced her for whatever damn reason he had awakened her anger. How dare she compare her with that loser of a sire! Swallowing the blood and letting out a hiss, something else took over her senses. One week in the clutches of the Sabbat left stains, and being beaten up reminded her of one of Hargreaves' lessons: in the Beast lies also strength. Yes the Ventrue antitribu's teachings may have been brutal, and despised by the Camarilla, however she could still discover some sense in it. Perhaps because Hargreaves had been much like an instructor from the military. Could it be harmful to mix tiny bits of that into her behaviour to survive? To conserve _dignity_? Katherine worked hard to get rid of the taint her sire had brought upon her, throwing her into this world without telling why and then being so foolish as to get caught; and Damsel knew him? Fine.

"Where are you bitch? Done with pissing your pants?" The mocking wasn't heard anymore. There was no urge to control her anger, not even an attempt to suppress it. The Beast could smell its prey, the source of anger, the source who wanted to hurt it. Another hiss, the pain forgotten, the Beast jumped at it, falling on the ground with the prey and starting to sink its claws into the flesh. The prey struggled, cursed but the Beast wasn't feeling anything, nor would it tremble after a blow, feeling hits into the broken jaw, its face, the abdomen but not feeling any pain, only the desire to rend and tear apart the source of its humiliation, sinking its teeth into it and ripping it apart, tasting its cold blood and hearing how it screamed. A fast move sent the Beast away from its prey, smelling how it tried to run, to hide. The Beast wouldn't allow that, it knew the scent of its prey and started to chase it but someone held it, shouting unimportant gibberish. No one stood in the way of the Beast and its prey! At first it protested with a hiss, then a growl and finally bit into the subject who tried to cage it as a light was bending it, new scents mixing in with that of its prey and blood, losing it.

"Kat! Shit, hold it girl! Damn! Get your teeth out of my hand!" Katherine was once more brought to the ground, slowly feeling how the red cloud lifted, shoving the Beast slowly back into its cage which wasn't easy at all. The Beast wouldn't freely give up control and after every frenzy it took more and more effort to chain it again. Every bone hurt. It felt like her ribcage had been shattered into pieces, as she tried to look through her smudgy vision at the person bent over her. Glowing red eyes stared at her and slowly Katherine tried to say Simon's name but her jaw felt like a wet mass of flesh, every motion sending searing pain and clouding every thought even more; however the solution to this mess was obvious.

"Ne...ne...chuuli..." Actually this should've sounded like 'Mercurio' but with her chin smashed it was pretty hard to say and some loose teeth were getting in her tongue's way. Furthermore she couldn't see if it was really Simon, however those thoughts did not linger very long in her mind as the injuries forced the Ventrue into torpor.

How much time had passed was out of the picture as warm, tasty blood touched Katherine's tongue, flooding her dead body with a sensation which could not be described. Instinctively she swallowed it down greedily, healing some of the more minor injuries.

"Sweetie, you look like a truck ran over ya'." It was Mercurio's voice and once more she could only thank God for him being there. "After all that blood from me, I expect dinner next time when I come home." The ghoul laughed and the vampire stopped to drink more blood from his wrist. It wasn't much but it should at least knit the worst things together, most importantly her jaw.

"I'd kidnap the kitchen chef of the Four Seasons if you would want it." It took some minutes before she was able to speak, utilizing the blood to mend the broken bones.

"No need for that. Just make me some nice stuff from ya' home country, would ya'?" Not that she was a great cook but Mercurio seemed to be serious. Can't turn down a request from such a helpful man, so she simply gave him a thumbs up while rolling from the couch, feeling the broken ribs.

"How did I get here?" There was of course the explanation that Simon had somehow managed it, but still Katherine liked confirmation.

"Some huge guy carried you in here. What happened?" So it was Simon after all. She'd made a really good trade with him so to speak. Mercurio got the short version of what happened, as said Caitiff opened the door and stepped into the apartment, blood stains on his white shirt and jeans.

"No one followed us," he growled as his gaze spotted Katherine. "All fine?" The Ventrue nodded.

"I owe you some. How did you know where to bring me?" More important was the fact that Simon didn't deliver her straight into the Venture Tower. Jesus, not to think of what LaCroix would have done to her while she was in torpor, like feeding her his blood to bind her more!

"You told me to go to Mercurio if I ever needed something," he shrugged while Mercurio walked away into his bedroom, answering his ringing cell phone. Simon took a seat next to Katherine on the couch. "Why did you turn off the lights?" Ah, he wasn't that bland at all.

"I guessed." Simon gave her an odd look. "When you threw cars at me, I hid in dark corners. It should have been impossible for you to see me, but you did. So I simply wagered that you could see in the dark. Seeing the enemy while he can't see you is an immense advantage, besides we knew the area better than them. This way we were able to outweigh the disadvantages of numbers and power." Three Brujah against a Caitiff and a Ventrue was without a doubt a disadvantage. Gladly none of them were Gangrel.

"So you can't see in the dark?" She gave him a glance and was reminded that he didn't know about the specific traits of the different clans. Cautiously rubbing her jaw to check if it didn't hurt much anymore, Katherine leaned back, wincing shortly in pain because of the still-broken ribs.

"Every clan has other specialties. You for example have Gangrel blood, even if you are clanless. I can't grow claws or see in the dark." How exactly things worked for a Caitiff was beyond her knowledge. Blood was blood right?

"What can you do? I mean you're not the fighting type, sure but fuck! You're not dumb. Is that some kind of..." He searched for the word in his mind. "...trait?"

"No, I was in the military and trained to consider the area if there's a fight. One of my traits is that I can swallow some more injuries than other clans, and..." Katherine stopped. The other two disciplines were quite explosive to mention. She needed to select her words carefully. Gladly Simon didn't seem to mind her hesitation. "...something like Dracula can do, you know? Hypnotizing humans so I can feed more easily upon them or so that it's easier to convince them about something." Wow that was vague. Simon had an odd expression on his edgy face.

"You can do that with vampires too?" Ah, bad question. Even if it was simply out of curiosity, or worse: out of suspicion.

"No. Their will is too strong. Else I would have convinced Damsel to leave, rather than clubbing me into a pile of crap with her bare hands." Bland lie, however at least this little incident was useful to cover it up.

"You nearly ripped her jaw out."

"What?" Was he kidding?

"Dunno, you totally flipped out I guess and some minutes later I saw how she ran out, her jaw dangling strangely around and you chasing her." Katherine looked at her hands and spotted a lot of bite marks. Everything in her body was hurting so she didn't notice it.

"I frenzied." It came dry out of her like it needed to be said out loud.

"Why that?" The Ventrue sighed heavily. She wanted to feed but since Simon had gotten her out of the Confession, even stopping her frenzy before she started hurting innocents, he deserved answers.

"She pissed me off. Hit the wrong button in mentioning my sire. I don't like that." Short version, no reasons, nothing that would reveal too much.

"Good to know that." It was the first time Katherine saw her companion slightly smile.

"Guess you like to keep your face intact." He nodded as Mercurio came back in, rubbing his forehead.

"Bad news, sweetie. LaCroix wants you up in his tower and he didn't sound very happy. I think I'm deaf now..." Oh Jesus, that was great! No time to feed and to heal every injury. Not to mention she didn't want to go thirsty into the devil's cave. Feeding on Mercurio was not possible. Sip on him now in this condition and he would sleep through the whole next day. Damn! So there was no other option.

"Simon, would you be so nice as to accompany me to the tower? I...can't heal this mess right now. Low on blood." Blinking, the Caitiff gave her a questioning look. Which said, 'Why not? Simply grab a mortal, hypnotize him and stuff.' "My blood needs certain standards. I can't feed on the next best mortal who crosses my way." He nodded and stood up.

"Got a car at Salvage's. I'm getting it and picking you up." And before Simon would return, Katherine closed her eyes to rest a bit.

LaCroix sat behind his desk, drumming with his fingertips against the polished wood, his head resting on his left knuckle. Simon was waiting outside the tower in his car. She'd convinced him that it was better that way; besides all of LaCroix's frustration was entirely directed at her. So the young Ventrue stood – more or less – firm in front of the Prince and awaited his outburst, the storm forbade by his knitted eyebrows and narrowed eyes. It was silent in the office, with the exception of the Prince's drumming fingers of course. It felt like he was using it to wear Katherine down and it didn't miss the effect. She twitched nervously with her eye, keeping her head low.

"How..." LaCroix began slowly, his eyes still scrutinizing the beaten figure in front of him. "...was I unclear in terms of 'subtle'?" Good to know he had knowledge about what happened, however it was also good to know why she was here. She blew the thing with the Toreador. Slowly Katherine opened her mouth to say something. Wasn't he at first complementing her on the success? Oh well, that was probably sharing the same fate as those, 'We will rule this city side by side.' Bastard. "Silence!" he hissed in a low voice. "Do you know that the Anarchs are now accusing me in the open for the death of one of theirs? Do you even have any idea what this means?" Obediently, she shook her head. "It means that negotiations are frozen!" His fingers stopped their drumming. Instead he clenched them into a fist and hurled it down on the desk, which made her twitch once more. "I would punish you now for your failure, but it is clear to me that you already received one. Remember it and _never_ repeat such a misstep again." Yes, that was clear and – Wait a minute! What the hell was he talking about? It made no sense and dumbfounded she glanced at him like the beaten pile of meat she was. No punishment? No suicide mission? "However: to clean up this mess, I need to show goodwill towards those heathens." Snorting, the Prince stood up and paced again in front of his desk like a madman. "Baron Abrams – may he soon meet Final Death – seems to have problems with hunters in Hollywood. His foolish childe attracted them."

"Ash Rivers? He left the city as far as I know." It simply blurted out of her and LaCroix silenced her immediately with a cold glare, stopping his obsessive pacing and stepping down to her.

"You know Abrams' childe?" The question sounded like an interlude to another scolding.

"Well...I sort of helped him with his hunter problem while I was searching for Gary and the stolen sarcophagus. Later I freed him out of the Society of Leopold." And it was there Ash had sworn to leave the city so that none would see his burned face. Well, he ran away before Katherine could tell him it would heal. Anyway, LaCroix stared at her in silence.

"_Why_ didn't you tell me that?" he hissed again in his low voice, grabbing her neck with a firm grip which sent an electric jolt through her body, feeling the hurting ribs once more.

"It was nearly a year ago and it didn't seem important...." Sound of gritting teeth echoing through the office silenced the young Ventrue, staring into cold grey eyes, showing death.

"Not important?" The Prince's voice was an octave higher. "The childe of Isaac Abrams has not one, but two life boons to my protégé and this is not..._important_?" Sarcasm dripped out of the last word, and the grip around her neck tightened. Katherine didn't even dare to wince or move any muscle while LaCroix was this close to her, baring his fangs and starting to laugh softly. "Your naïveté in politics humours me." The grip loosened and instead of nearly snapping her neck, his fingers slowly explored their way along it. Needless to say it utterly irritated her, including her need to stomp down the urge to close her eyes and purr like a cat. However, this was hard and she moved a bit so that the pain in her ribcage distracted her from every uprising thought about how tender the fucking bastard was at the moment, looking at her like she was a goody good dog, his pale lips showing a wonderfully smug smile... _'Trap, trap, trap, trap! Seconds before he wanted to kill you and now...this!' _She hated him for that! Whatever the Prince was now thinking, Katherine knew he wouldn't share it with her, so with his – surprisingly – newfound good mood it was time to bring out another topic.

"Mr. Pieterzoon invited me to go with him back to Europe." The caressing stopped immediately, the smile washed away. "He asked me before about you and the sarcophagus. I didn't tell him anything about it. Just the version everyone knows, that I opened it." She didn't need the narrowed eyes to tell her she'd just crushed his good mood again into pieces. "He suspects that you know his real reason for being in Los Angeles, because of the deaths of so many Primogen."

"Of course I know." There was the tight grip around her neck again, the hissing in his voice and the bared fangs.

"I swear I didn't say anything which could harm you. I owe you so much it's the least I can do." It was quite a bit dramatic, however Katherine didn't want to die so it was better to get to the pleading and begging part. As far as she could judge, he liked her wincing under his eyes even if it tasted bitter to swallow her pride like that.

"What was your answer?" She stared at him without an outspoken question on her face. "What..." He dragged her closer to his face, hissing the next words directly at it. "...has been your answer to his request?" Oh, the complicated part.

"That I needed some time to think about it, and I came to the conclusion that I want to accept it." Later she would tell that to Mr. Pieterzoon but as for now the nails of LaCroix's fingers in her neck were ruthlessly carving into her flesh, leaving the young Ventrue to gasp out loud because of the inflicted pain. "Sir?" Just in case he didn't _notice_ that he was hurting her, she addressed him; however it seemed like the Prince ignored it.

"_Why_?" His eyes focused on her face, catching the gaze of the convulsing neonate.

"I'd like to learn more. I..." The nails dug deeper into her flesh. "...I know you're very busy leading the city and having a childe of your own." Another gasp of pain and she could feel how her legs were shaking. "You can't possibly have time to teach someone like me properly. You said it yourself: Without a sire I'm doomed not to know my place. I don't want to be a failure like my sire." For a moment there was silence, during which the murderous gaze in LaCroix's eyes rested on her. Suddenly he let her loose and turned around, walking past his desk and looking out of the window, down on the city. She'd felt it even more while in Dean and James' company. Katherine may be of Ventrue blood but she was lacking all of the education. It felt like she belonged to the clan only through blood, being a misfit, an orphan stumbling around aimlessly. Even as the Prince's protégé she felt out of place among her clanmates. "I won't be a burden anymore so I thought you would welcome this decision." Someone who could harm him and abused his trust would leave. Wasn't that something good? Why was he so pissed?

"Leave." She couldn't believe her ears. Unsure, Katherine shifted from her left foot to the right one. Was that all of an answer she would get?

"I thank you for all the guidance you gave me my Prince. I will honour your name, you can be sure of it." He didn't twitch a millimetre.

"Sheriff, escort her out." Wait, what?

"Sir, I..." Why did it bother her so much that he was seemingly displeased with her decision? Even after all the crap he had done she was polite to him, kept his secrets, played the devil's advocate, he simply threw her out? The Sheriff grabbed her shoulder and started to shove her to the exit of the office. "Derrick, wait a second I..." Realising the stupidity of trying to convince the Sheriff to disobey an order from LaCroix, Katherine shook her head. He'd tried to do the same to her, turning her into a mindless slave. Somehow she believed Mr. Pieterzoon's words and of course it was an explanation for why she kept silent about all the corpses in the Prince's basement. Perhaps the now rising feelings of guilt and sorrow for leaving him were instilled, unnaturally forced into her mind by him. It made sense however Katherine still had trouble locking them up during the elevator ride down into the lobby and while getting back in Simon's car.

"You look even more shitty than after the beat up." Closing her eyes, Katherine could hear how the engine was started.

"Say Simon: do you want to leave this city and everything behind? Going to where no LaCrotch is, where we can perhaps find a place where we belong?" Not looking at the Caitiff with her tired eyes, and rubbing the burning marks LaCroix's nails had left in her flesh, Simon returned her a strange look, thinking why the sudden question. "Do you want to come with me to Europe?" His hands left the steering wheel, looking down at the pedals, pondering, and then he shrugged after some minutes passed.

"Yeah, why not? Nothing holds me here anyway."

"Then let's drive to the Empire Arms."

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AN: I couldn't resist on the bad South Park pun. Did I mention that I'm a very, very bad liar? Must be the LaCroix side in me...


	14. The Prince's Dream

**Thanks for all the reviews guys! Sorry for not answering to them now, but I'm a bt in a hurry due to work. I so wish I could dominate my boss...**

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Suppressing the anger rising in his chest, all the insults he'd just had to bear from that ungrateful neonate, Sebastian clenched his fists, nails nearly cutting deep into the flesh of his palms. His shoulders trembled. He didn't need to hold back. No dosage of finely calculated anger was needed to be fired to scare off other foolish Kindred who dared to upset him. He was alone and he _needed_ to let this anger out without restraint. The Beast inside was roaring upon this humiliation!

"How could she dare to defy me once more?" The words were hissed against the glass of the window, then the Prince hurled himself around, pacing to his desk and back to window and so forth. Hands clasping and unclasping, fury burning in the cold grey eyes. "How could she _dare_?" Voice raised, Sebastian's arm swiped over his desk full of papers, pulling down a costly fountain pen and some of those papers in progress, which fell down onto the expensive parquet floor and left a puddle of ink on it. Not that _he _was somehow bonded to _her_; however, Miss Falkner was – despite her treachery – a valuable asset to his organisation. She was power and why, why did everyone want to take his power away?

"Jan! You cursed schemer!" Sebastian roared those words again into his empty office. His tantrum was private. During his longing for the sarcophagus he had made them less private, because of the stress, of the promising power it could have yielded to him, but anyway he'd learned his lesson. He needed patience and Jan was the official confirmation that his quest for the sarcophagus and the mummy had raised more than one eyebrow amongst the elders of clan Ventrue. They shall be cursed! All of them! And now they wanted to take him down? Of course too eager ambitions were regarded with a frown, that is why he'd kept calm till now, pushing his plans to gain a seat within the Inner Circle some centuries away. But taking his most valuable asset away from him? As much as he hated to admit it, she was a key to success. Sebastian had never thought of that after seeing her the first time, being a simple woman with a peasant face, not a drip of nobility that could have made her worthy for the Blue Bloods and this woman dared to tell him boldly to his face – _his!_ – that his teachings were inappropriate? Not enough for her?

"With whom did she think she was talking?" Nails were scratched into the polished surface of the dark wooden desk, leaving scratch marks on its once perfect countenance. The doors swung open and the Sheriff appeared again, however the Prince couldn't stand anyone's presence at the moment. "Out! Get _out_!" He knew it was not necessary to yell at his obedient pawn, but he _needed_ to direct his anger towards someone or something unfortunate who was simply there at the wrong time. In an instant the Sheriff turned around and was gone again, waiting in front of his office like a statue and Sebastian began his obsessive pacing again. Fists clenching and unclenching again, teeth grinding.

_"Ne me prends pas pour un idiot_!_"_ Did Jan really think he could make a fool out of him just because he was _privileged_? Or did he...no! Sebastian stopped his pacing again as his anger received a sudden silencer. Could Jan actually suspect anything? If he did, the uncovering of this would be an outrage, not to mention a severe drawback to his agenda. Did he leave any traces? Impossible! His domination was perfect! So why would Jan meddle in his agenda, besides the obvious reasons which were circulating around: the death of nearly the whole Counsel of Primogen, his secret alliance with the Kuei-Jin; however this was all necessary! Naturally he understood the mistake of his conquest for the sarcophagus. Not that anyone would understand the kind of pressure resting on his shoulders which could have been lifted by more power, besides Sebastian's successes were on the other hand not in question and all these successes lead back to Miss Falkner. So, assuming this was also Jan's line of thought and not the other possibility, the Prince would be able to deal with it. Pondering, he walked to the sole chair in front of the fireplace and sat down, one hand at his chin. He would keep his protégé, no matter what! She was _his_ property! To whom else did she owe her life at first? Besides, how could she even be able to fend off the blood bond? Not to speak of insulting him more without complimenting nor acknowledging his superb skill in _le sabrage_! To his own frustration his past attempts at binding her further failed because of unimportant interference.

_'Primogen Voerman...this won't go without an aftermath.'_ These intentions were filed in his brain for later execution. On the other hand he could still _force _Miss Falkner to drink his vitae. Yes, this would be appropriate, even if she were to refuse. To be honest, Sebastian enjoyed that small meddling with her, feeling some long lost longing he hadn't had for decades. Without a doubt the reason for this wasn't because he'd drank her vitae! That thought alone was preposterous! He was the Prince! He had enough willpower not to be affected by the weak blood of a simple neonate! He loved power. He longed for power and she was power to put it simply. It just came in a very interesting form he did not see before.

Sebastian stood up again, stepping to the rifle he'd taken into commission and gently brushing over it, closing his eyes. The Regent was able to read the emotions etched into it and the Prince had tried to do the same more than once. Could he actually believe in the words of the warlock? Letting out a frustrated snarl, he wasn't able to read anything! It was easy to see the current emotions of neonates in their aura, of course it was! It often helped Sebastian to manipulate them like he wanted to, regardless of what their faces were showing, and still he had not mastered auspex to the same degree as the Regent.

"I should have killed you that night!" Cursed woman! Regardless of how often he sent her on a death mission, she returned alive and victorious! After the first wave of anger and surprise about her success in destroying the warehouse, the Prince had reminded himself of why she was so successful and that it shouldn't have been unexpected. Furthermore, even against his better judgment, he'd ordered the Sheriff to leave her alive despite crossing his way in obtaining the mummy. Massaging his forehead, Sebastian sank down into one of his red sofas, leaning back. No, he couldn't kill her that easily. She was valuable after all and this was a fact he needed to call often into his mind; besides no one else waked this long lost pleasant longing in him. Out of curiosity he once easily seduced Miss Cecilia but that was not nearly the same sensation as with Miss Falkner, even if she wasn't his taste in terms of standards. Women. What a needless distraction! Still he couldn't ignore the first touch at the airport, feeling warm soft lips like the most expensive fabric he could not buy even with all his money. The second time he'd forced his lips on hers, as she drank his blood which educed a pleased moan from him. Sebastian sighed and shook his head. After her betrayal, he was not willing to deny her a kiss and to drink his vitae once more until they were interrupted! And of course the taste of fine vintage from those lips! He wanted to explore those feelings more, simultaneously seducing Miss Falkner easily and binding her. So much for her words that she couldn't understand how any woman could turn him down. Of course no woman could turn him down but she was! Sebastian snorted, frustrated upon realising that he was wasting his precious time. He needed to plan ahead of Jan. Of course there was more in jeopardy than a precious asset: his position as Prince. Miss Falkner knew too much and even if she didn't spill anything important out, Jan could force her to. He _needed_ to secure her loyalty and prevent her from spending more time alone with the ambassador, besides all of this already foiled a plan of his. The assignment to kill Kent Alan Ryan was bound to fail from the beginning, his outburst that she failed was merely well-placed anger and the frozen negotiations were only a temporary problem. He wanted to be accused of ordering the ill-begotten Toreador's assassination. Abram's childe had returned to the city, once again attracting hunters. Sebastian wanted – as an act of goodwill and political PR – that his protégé would ensure Ash River's security. The Anarchs would have looked foolish upon their accusations. All of L.A.'s eyes would have been on Katherine Falkner, the Prince's most trusted protégé who protected an Anarch Baron's childe with her life. Even more the newly gained fact that Ash Rivers already owed her two life boons would have at least silenced Abrams for a long time but now with Jan's interference he had to reconsider his plans.

Point one: He needed to keep Miss Falkner in Los Angeles.

Well this task was the most important one and the most complicated. In case Jan suspected the right thing, he needed to turn the tables, coming up with something just as scandalous as the truth and Sebastian could only think about one possibility, the thought of which alone caused pain to his ego. But there were sacrifices to be made and he had to bear them, if not his whole agenda was about to be foiled completely. The Prince had unwavering confidence in his ability to...make up stories, so after careful examination of Jan's possible suspicions, he could choose either way. Perhaps the childe of Hardestadt really was simply interested in her abilities and didn't suspect anything at all. Without a doubt that was the ideal scenario, however it would be too easy. Nothing was easy as Prince of a city like Los Angeles. He wouldn't underestimate his clanmate, the childe of a founder of the Camarilla. Again: Curse the woman for defying him! She would also pay for this. Sebastian would teach her a lesson never to think of leaving him again! _Him_! The Prince of Los Angeles! Once more he felt anger rising, as his hands dug into the soft red cushion.

Point two: Simultaneously soothing the Anarchs without Miss Falkner.

As long as he didn't execute his plan to keep her in the city, Sebastian needed a run-around plan for this. That matter couldn't wait until the first problem was solved, else it would lose the desired effect. Who was as valuable to him as Miss Falkner? Well the answer was simple: no one, however the question was quite wrong. It had to be, 'Who appears to the outside to be as valuable as Miss Falkner?' The answer was, again, easy: Miss Cecilia. Sending her would perhaps have an even greater effect. Of course there needed to be some modification of reasoning, but he didn't doubt he'd find some. It didn't change the matter of the life boons; however, Miss Cecilia could suffice as an olive branch. Sending her to Hollywood, deep into an Anarch barony, tying the relationship of Rivers and Abrams. It wasn't a secret that his childe was not very fond of having been sired. Even if this weren't to be the case – Sebastian assumed that the old diva would rather stake himself than owe a favour to him – the Baron couldn't refuse a peaceful offer; just give Miss Cecilia a pistol and tell her to make herself useful and to watch out for Mr. Rivers, always with the argument in hand that he required protection. Sure, Abrams had his own gang of thugs, but according to his information his childe also wasn't very fond of that. The Baron wouldn't be able to refuse! Period.

"Why do you make me go through such trouble, Katherine? Why must you vex me so much?" It was more a thought spoken out loud into the huge office and under different circumstances Sebastian wouldn't have even considered speaking it out loud! _"Je ne suis pas assez puissant pour toi?"_ His nails dug deeper into the red fabric and before he ripped it open, the Prince stood up. He would show her how powerful he was, that she couldn't flee from him!

"Sheriff! You may come in!" It was time to take action. He'd already pondered long enough and the night was coming to an end, and just as he reached his desk the Sheriff also took his usual position. "Miss Gyllenhaal? Please send up a ghoul to clean my office and then contact Baron Abrams. I wish to talk to him immediately." Abrams wouldn't answer right away of course. He knew the cursed diva's petty pouting strategy to make him wait.

"Yes Prince LaCroix," the fine voice of the Toreador confirmed.

"And tomorrow evening contact Mr. Pieterzoon, as there is also something I wish to discuss with him. It is utterly important, so make that clear to him." It was a fine calculated delay. In any case it shouldn't give the impression that his 'sinful secret' was affecting Sebastian in his decisions. No, that would be a new reason to dispose of him, so he needed to find a finely trimmed line which was named 'tolerable'.

"Yes, Prince LaCroix. Is there something more I can do?" the Toreador's voice asked after some seconds through the intercom.

"No Miss Gyllenhaal, thank you and good evening." Now it was time to indoctrinate Miss Cecilia. He knew about her jealousy towards Miss Falkner and vice versa. If women could distract men from important work, so could men use their petty emotions and drabble for affection for their own favour. He would use Miss Cecilia to strike a punishment against Katherine's insubordination. She wouldn't be able to find an opening for an attack against his protégé, needing a slight bit of stimulus. Sebastian found his self-confident smile again as he walked out of the office, ignoring the ghoul, who bowed deep down as the Prince of Los Angeles passed him.

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AN: Ne me prends pas pour un idiot! - Don't think I'm a fool!

Je ne suis pas assez puissant pour toi? - Am I not powerful enough for you?

A thousand thanks to Shoryaku no Neko for correcting my terrible French! Like I said, I'm a terrible liar. I just _had _to write this for a couple of reasons: a) To wash away any suspicion that LaCroix is morphing into an blood bound, lovesick douche despite being affected by the blood bond b) JYHAAAAAAAD! c) Fanservice d) I so wanted to write him during a royal tantrum! e) To make clear that he is still power hungry but out of the sarcophagus craze, being again the man who rose in merely 200 years to his current position.


	15. Kabale und Liebe

**Thanks to sister-b **(guess who will throw a tantrum in the future), **Maellowyn **(right away, but I'm stalled at ch. 16), **dropletsoflight **(again too much flattery *dies*), **rednightmare** (the document manager bites me at the moment but glad to have served you) **and Zaekka** (dreimal darfst du raten warum ich das "Romance" rausgestrichen habe, kekeke) **for the reviews! And sorry for not answering them the last time.**

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To be honest, Jan had expected a meeting with the Prince sooner. Sebastian wasn't the kind of person to wait long, preferring to make rasher maneuvers. Surprise effect, he called it back in those days. Perhaps Fräulein Falkner had pondered her options a bit longer and only recently informed the Prince of her decision. The neonate had visited him last night in the company of a Caitiff she wanted to bring along. Jan agreed to it and was quite a bit disturbed that she looked injured; however, later information told him the reason for it and the ambassador wondered if there was a deeper cause behind all of this. There were still too many pieces of the puzzle missing to show a clear frame. Now he sat in one of the comfortable chairs, all the formal etiquette finished, making space to move on to the important parts.

"I excuse the sudden interruption of your affairs, but it is most important for me to know if there were any impediments to your progress on account of my personnel," the Prince spoke. Gain: more friendly formalities to gracefully steer the direction of the conversation onto a specific course. For the time being, Jan decided to play along. After all this would tell him indirectly which topics mattered to Sebastian the most.

"No, my Prince. I'm fairly surprised how well your city is organised regarding the circumstances." The Anarchs were relatively quiet – except for the attack against the Prince's protégé for obvious reasons – which made him consider being a purpose in the first place.

"Sadly I have no news on the whereabouts of Mr. Beckett. It is quite an offense if he departed without notifying me. Have you already questioned my protégé about him? I believe she could deliver some clues and information." There it was: the crucial question and for now Jan still let Sebastian handle the reins of their conversation. The Prince wasted no time in reaching the important topic which indicated that he was on the right track.

"I spoke to her two nights ago; however, our conversation merely involved Mr. Beckett." To deny their conversation would be futile and to hide his intentions about taking Katherine with him would be outright offensive. "To be honest, I am more interested in her abilities than in the information about Mr. Beckett she may have. Someone like her would be a genuine asset to the Camarilla in Europe. Intel indicates that the Anarchs are also on a popularity rise there. Needless to say, her experience would benefit our agenda and as a further advantage I am able to act as her mentor, amending your teachings." The words had to be chosen carefully, else it could awaken the impression that Sebastian's teachings weren't enough. At least not blunt and direct to his face. Truth be told, Fräulein Falkner lacked a lot of the education necessary to be a full member of the clan. There had always been a bit of competition between Sebastian and himself and those little games of theirs only cooled down when Sebastian left Europe. Of course they supported each others' business as long as their interests didn't clash. Normal Ventrue occurrences among the clan, however there was still some unspoken issue Jan was aware of. Sebastian had always looked at him with some sort of envy, being in a higher status right after the Embrace. Sebastian may be a breath of fresh air in terms of his methods, earning Jan's approval, but was too rash with their execution. A slight nod came from the Prince as he adjusted his sitting position a bit.

"Jan…" he began slowly and folded his fingertips in front of his face, elbows on the armrest. "…I'll take the liberty of assuming that you already question my decisions with regard to leading the city. I highly doubt the childe of Hardestadt has been entrusted merely with the simple search of some stray Gangrel."

"Please understand the current situation my Prince. Without any attempt to obfuscate another assignment entrusted to me, you are right; however, the worries of the elders regarding the latest events in Los Angeles couldn't go unanswered and the possible Primogen of the city urged to handle it with discretion." Golden rule number one in dealing with Princes: Never give them even the slightest reason to assume you want to take their city away from them. "Still, Mr. Beckett is of course another important assignment from my sire." A soft chuckle came from Sebastian, which irritated Jan for a second but he covered it up very well, keeping that feeling to himself. Being from the same clan, the Dutch Ventrue wouldn't have made a great secret out of this in the first place. After all it was the Ventrue's task to lead, while all of their political agendas of course stayed hidden from the other clans. There was some kind of distant, mutual trust throughout the clan; still they struggled way too much, for Jan's taste, amongst themselves for power. It was obstructive to say the least.

"The latest _Primogens' _treachery was handled according to Camarilla laws. Why is there fear among those who could claim that title if they are loyal to the sect?" That was true, for selling themselves and the Camarilla out to the Sabbat was inexcusable. However there should have been a more discreet solution to this predicament than public execution. It could be interpreted in various ways because of Alistair Grout's dubious death.

"With all due respect and regard to our business in the past, Sebastian, there is something unsettling in the past events." It was time to put the cards on the table, to make a direct stab into this direction. Of course it was more of a strategy to wait, but Jan had learned during the Sabbat siege that it was sometimes necessary to take the initiative instead of pondering too long. Else it could be too late and he knew Sebastian well enough to be sure that the political drabble could take weeks before he got him cornered, if not months to find an opening. Needless to mention that these words were already circulating on the streets, causing damage.

"And that is why you came to the conclusion that Miss Falkner could clarify any doubts about these _unsettling _events. To speak clearly – with regard to our shared past – that my leadership is being questioned by the elders." Now it was finally spoken out loud.

"Yes. All key events lead back to an illegally-sired Kindred. The whole city is asking why the Prince trusts someone like her." _'A Ventrue without proper education,' _was the hidden message. Sebastian stood up slowly, the burden on his shoulders now clearly visible. It silenced Jan, never having been witness to this side of the Prince. Naturally he'd seen many Princes with the same expression on their faces, clouded by their burdens in times of danger, but to see it on Sebastian's young face – the very same Sebastian who never hesitated to overcome any obstacle in his way – stopped his speech. Thoughtfully the Prince walked to the fireplace, his silhouette lighted by the red flames.

"I knew this day would come, and such questions arise." Hands folded behind his back, Jan couldn't see Sebastian's face. "And I know that it could be scandalous upon revealing it." Shaking his head Sebastian turned around. Jan had to collect himself to not look outright shocked by the expression in his clanmate's eyes. Clearly they stated some kind of pain Jan knew very well, and that this could happen to Sebastian LaCroix caught him completely off-guard. Was he actually right with his theory? Could it really be that Sebastian had fooled this whole city more than three times? "You want to take her with you, because you see it as a possibility to gain knowledge of my greatest secret as of yet, am I right? Please answer faithfully Jan. I don't need to tell you what burden my position brings, so please: I want at least the knowledge that you, as my friend, are not going to backstab me." Jan was startled, taking his glasses from his nose and massaging its bridge. He'd anticipated denial, excuses but an outright confession? Never!

"I never planned to sell you out, Sebastian. I'm handling it as an internal matter of clan Ventrue, of course, but I need to report it to the elders in any case because of -"

"I love her." Jan's head jerked up, staring silently at the Prince who'd interrupted him. His jaw opened to say something, but he closed it again and swallowed the startled 'What?' Instead, he shook his head, placing the glasses back on his nose. "I know what you think. It is not appropriate for a Ventrue, a _Prince_ with such a large city to rule, and even more to have such emotions for an illegally-sired fledgling. That is why I harnessed it. The gossip would be ghastly, the sheer possibilities for my enemies to exploit countless." Sebastian turned around, punching the upper decor of the fireplace, clawing into it desperately. "Her abilities are indispensable to me but that is not all. I never told her what I feel, that I _still_ can feel, despite knowing Katherine would never exploit it. I don't want her to be in more danger than she already is as my protégé."

"I…" The older Ventrue sighed heavily. "…I know how you feel." Slowly Sebastian lifted his head and gave Jan a glance, a silent question, _'How could you possibly know?' _"In Baltimore I was confronted with a similar…predicament and like you I let her go because of the politics." Now he stood up, stepping towards his fellow clanmate and placing a hand on his trembling shoulder, only a slight suspicion arising that this could all be but an act. It made sense. Somehow.

"Don't take her away from me Jan. She's the only person in this city who I can trust like my own childe. Miss Cecilia is not half as talented as her. I know very well the scandal it could let loose and that this isn't answering all the questions you have." Again, Jan shook his head.

"No…no. It answers many questions. It answers why you trust her word so much, even calling out a blood hunt on Nines Rodriguez when her word was the only evidence." But it still didn't answer the strange anomalies in her memory. "It answers why you entrusted her with so many important assignments, even placing your life into her hands. If it weren't you, I would say your feelings cloud your ability to lead this city." Another sigh as Sebastian's eyes slightly narrowed. "But you kept your distance to protect our clan's reputation, placing its needs above your personal feelings." Like he did in Baltimore. That is why clan Ventrue was leading and not the Toreador. Sebastian had inherited that point of view so Jan didn't look down on the younger Ventrue, no, he could only compliment him for displaying this sort of strength and being honest towards him. "And why you were very upset to hear that she'd killed Nines Rodriguez despite your orders to organise a truce." _'And called, without conclave, a blood hunt on her.' _Surely Sebastian knew that that was a mistake.

"So what are you going to report to our clan's elders? That Prince Sebastian LaCroix is a love-struck fool, unable to lead the city properly, placing all his faith into a sireless Ventrue he's in love with?" The words were bitter and if someone other than Jan were sent, it would end that way but Jan was interested neither in gaining power nor in toppling Sebastian. His ways of course conjured many a frown among the elders, not abiding strictly by the old ways and that was why his French clanmate was very suitable for the position as Prince of Los Angeles. This wasn't a European city.

"Rest assured that I won't my friend," he said in a soft tone. Indirectly Sebastian was seeking his help and the _noblesse oblige _of the clan commanded him to aide a clanmate in need, regardless of personal opinions; though his personal opinion of Sebastian wasn't negative and he knew what a threat the Sabbat was, having witnessed their assault of New York firsthand. "I will report that Prince Sebastian LaCroix was simply faithful to his words, adopting the spared neonate and treating her like his own blood. That is why he will be successful in securing Los Angeles as a Camarilla domain. His ability in recognising talent very fast is an indispensable asset towards the long procedure of claiming back California. Repelling the Kuei-Jin, uncovering a secret attempt of the Sabbat to undermine the very core of the Camarilla in Los Angeles, it is undeniable that Prince LaCroix's decisions and judgment of the complicated status of this city are correct." It was visible how a heavy weight was lifted from Sebastian's shoulders, as he gained back some of his former authority.

"And your plans regarding Katherine?" he asked with a low voice and Jan gave him a smile. Miss Falkner really lacked the cunning finesse to exploit the Prince's feelings and as of yet she wasn't even aware of them.

"I didn't lie when I said she would also be an asset in Europe. Her understanding of military tactics is outstanding but it is needed more in a contested territory, after thinking on it again, and I trust that you will make the right decisions regarding her education." Returning the smile, the Prince took his hands away from the decor and straightened his suit as if it helped him regain his lost self-control, awakening the question in Jan's mind once more if this wasn't all a perfectly calculated act; but he highly doubted that Sebastian would embarrass himself freely in such a way, even with the knowledge in hand that the Prince had a knack for very dramatic scenes to say the least. Jan simply filed it away as a typical trait from Sebastian's time. He was a proud Ventrue and it was presumably a huge step for him to swallow his pride, opening himself up so much. Even if Jan's intuition told him that there _was_ still something not right. How could someone like Sebastian fall for such a woman as Fräulein Falkner? She was by no means outstandingly beautiful nor did she possess any special charisma. Could it simply be her abilities which struck the Prince? Not all is gold that glitters and having been the 'victim' of countless attempts at seduction from very enchanting women, Jan came to the conclusion that it must really be Fräulein Falkner's non-existent charm. Either that or a rough military charm Jan couldn't be fond of, which struck the Prince who was an officer himself during his mortal days. Affection may be despised by the code of _dignitas_, being regarded as an unnecessary source of distraction leading to grave mistakes in important decisions, however Jan couldn't legitimately raise his finger admonishingly against him despite Sebastian being well aware of the dangers such affections bore. It oddly reminded Jan of a bourgeois tragedy written by Friedrich Schiller: _Kabale und Liebe _– Intrigue and Love. A noble, Major Ferdinand von Walter fell in love with a commoner wife that was bound to end in tragedy because of politics and intrigue. Jan didn't want to slip into the role of Hofmarschall von Kalb and felt a little bit of guilt in having pressed the Prince this far, urging him to embarrass himself in front of him.

"Thank you my friend. I would prefer to tell her the reasons why she will stay in Los Angeles and I've already taken measures to avoid such questions in the future. Miss Cecilia received yesterday night an assignment to protect the childe of Baron Abrams. At first I, of course, wanted to appoint Kat-, er, Miss Falkner but it seems that it is a wise decision to improve her education before giving her any more assignments." Taking away his hand from the Prince's shoulder, Jan nodded and was quite surprised that there was an indirect acknowledgment that the previous teachings were quite inaccurate.

"Of course, however I have to admit she's quite a safe bet. It was her who gave you the interesting title as _le phénix rusé_." Sebastian raised an eyebrow and Jan had to swallow an amused chuckle. "Is there anything more you'd like to discuss with me?" Now with the usual polite smile, Sebastian shook his head.

"That would be all. I thank you for understanding my predicament and acknowledging my successes rather than trying to find missteps on my behalf and swarming over them like those vultures out there. I knew a fellow Ventrue – and friend like you – would understand." Jan bowed down.

"Good evening, Prince." Walking slowly backwards out of the office, Hardestadt's childe still couldn't fend off the feeling that something was wrong. That the frame of the puzzle may somehow be complete, giving a full image, but some tiles were left over and didn't fit into the complete frame Sebastian had just given him. Again bits of guilt arose in Jan's stomach as he took the elevator back down for mistrusting his former friend from Europe. It was his duty to make sure that either none of the accusations against the Prince were true or to prove they were, and he wouldn't disappoint his dear sire. Failure was not an option. As much as Jan wanted to believe Sebastian, he couldn't simply let go the investigations which would be a step more easy and complicated at the same time with the Prince thinking himself safe.

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AN: Can you imagine the horror, the pain I've gone through while writing this chapter? I worked on it while having "the" Wikipedia article in my mind. It's another reason why "Les Liaisons Dangereuses" needed to happen: You shall all have a part of this pain and sister-b is still struggling with the image of LaCroix and the Sheriff! But I'm pleased to read, that all of you now have those images instilled. Score! Bwahahahaha!

Ah well but the story still misses a stereotypical joke from Kat about Dutch people who jam the streets with their caravans.


	16. Calamity Trigger

**Brittany:** Are you shure he really admitted anything? *giggles* Remember what he'd said in chapter 14

**Celeste:** Schön, dass du wieder da bist. Jan hat für einen Ventrue seiner Position recht viel Menschlichkeit, aber heißt nicht, dass er eine Dumpfbacke ist und sich so einfach mit dem Ganzen zufrieden gibt. So einfach lässt er sich nicht abschütteln. Glück für uns, hehe.

**Thanks to dropletsoflight, sister-b, shoryaku no neko, rednightmare Sazei and Zaekka for the reviews! So many of them and they currently help a lot to write, beacuse I'm myself a bit unsatisfied with the story. 16 chapters and still I don't have the main characters where I want them**.

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The rest of the night Katherine felt kind of like a train wreck before finding her way to El Segundo, the selected feeding ground for her picky Ventrue palate because of the military air base located there. Even during the night she had a better chance of finding suitable prey there or in the general neighbourhood. It was quite daring, however, because she didn't want to make herself a known face in the area, so it was more or less an emergency feeding ground for the Ventrue; besides she would now take anyone, the main point being that they were at least her standard. Katherine soon discovered that the flavour of blood was enhanced by the rank which the person inhabited. A private was drinkable but someone with the rank of colonel was way better in taste, though often these simple criteria were influenced by the person's health and other factors she still needed to find. With a sire this certainly wouldn't have been necessary to figure out on her own. Anyway at least this time she had some luck in finding a suitable vessel – after Simon dropped her off – within a mere two hours. It wasn't quite enough so she spent the rest of the night skulking around the block to find a second person to lure into an alley and feed upon. Dragging the kine into a pub or club wasn't her preferred way unless she wanted to get drunk too.

The next night her stop was of course the Confession, picking up Simon who at first gave her a curious look with his head tilted to the left and a short, "Hum." Venus on the other hand was more curious.

"I found your tool and put it in the office. The police were here." Slowly Venus eyed Katherine up and down. "Sure you're all right sweetheart?"

"As you can see I'm fine. How's Heather?" The red-haired girl wasn't present this evening and Venus had probably given her the night off after yesterday's events.

"Got a bit scared, our poor kid. Sprained her ankle after one of those thugs threw Simon against the glass and she stumbled backwards." So that was the scream of pain. Gladly it wasn't anything serious. Still Venus eyed her co-owner up and down which irritated Katherine. "Sure you're fine?

"I'm _fine_, yes. Why do you still ask?" Venus never asked so many questions.

"Some guests yesterday said that Simon carried you over his shoulder, pretty beaten up and full of blood." The Ventrue blinked – she finally somehow managed not to forget to again – and smiled softly.

"Venus, you know how people like to exaggerate things. Just got a knock against my head and passed out. If I had been beaten into a bloody pile of meat I'd be in a hospital now, right?" Venus frowned, looking thoughtful while a guest ordered a drink. "I lost my gun after the red-haired fury got me. We exchanged some punches in the dark until I got that said hit on my head. Still hurts a bit but I'm used to such stuff." The beat priestess mixed another drink and put it in front of Katherine, who gave her a questioning look.

"Special mix against pain," she smiled. "C'mon, try it."

"You know I don't drink when I'm here at work and secondly I want to minimize any private drawings to hold down our costs." Besides if she were able to drink something, it'd be a hot, steaming mug of black coffee, so strong that a spoon could stand in it.

"Don't be coy, Kitty. You're always so tense. Relax, okay? Our income is great and one drink won't hurt." That may be true but it would hurt the Masquerade, moreover she needed to tell Venus about her plan to go back to Europe.

"Venus Dare?" A female voice interrupted their conversation and both women turned their heads to the source.

"Yes Venus is her name, cutie. Anything to confess?" Immediately Venus shifted into her beat priestess role, however Katherine knew that this was about to be cast aside by the person. The vampire knew her.

"Well, not exactly. Detective Skinner, LAPD." Showing them her badge and with Venus inspecting it, Katherine frowned. Great. More problems. "About last night's incident with those thugs: I wanted to ask about the whereabouts of one of your bouncers."

"That would be me I guess." Katherine played a bit with the straw in Venus' special drink, stirring it and watching the ice cubes roll around inside.

"Miss...Falkner, right?" She sounded surprised, while Venus raised an eyebrow which said silently, 'Am I still needed?' "Never thought that you would be a bouncer in such a club."

"I own it together with my partner." A nod was thrown in Venus' direction who shrugged and walked to the other end of the bar, handling another guest. "Let's go into my office, Detective. There we can talk without interruptions." It would be easier to dominate her in such an environment than with all the noises around, and implanting things in people's minds required quiet surroundings to be effective at all. LaCroix would rip her head off if she'd violated the Masquerade, giving her a speech about how she was his protégé and how it humiliated him in public for her to breach the law. Strange. Why was she even still worried about him? Oh well, Katherine was still in his city after all. "Please, have a seat. How can I help you this time, Detective?" Arriving in the office, Katherine first grabbed her gun from the table where Venus put it. Of course she could nearly feel the curious eyes of the detective's on her action.

"There are various witnesses who claim that your bouncer carried you out. According to them you looked quite dead." Just great. It didn't take long for Katherine to figure out a possible scenario: Murder needed to be investigated and that's why Skinner was here. "French revolution? Military during the Napoleonic era? You're in history or your partner?" Skinner grabbed a book and browsed through it.

"Even if those strategies are kind of outdated in modern warfare, there are still some basics like the mistakes Napoleon made during Waterloo." This sentence came out fast and natural. Not that it was somehow suspicious if you read books about history.

"Or because your boss is French? How was the meeting? Got your job back?" Katherine turned around, not flinching a muscle and faced the smiling detective directly.

"Detective Skinner..." Oh god she sounded just like the Prince when he was offended. "...I doubt you're here to ask me about my involvement with the LaCroix Foundation. Please, I know the strategy of engaging someone in friendly, seemingly non-important chatter to squeeze information out. I was with the military police so be honest with me, all right?" Well there she got some bits of information, however they were not a secret and it was more important to steer the conversation away from the LaCroix Foundation and Sebastian LaCroix.

"That explains a lot. I was wondering why you cooperate so well." The book was placed back on the table, the smile gone from the detective's face. "So you're not dead, obviously, but I doubt that every witness was either drunk or drugged. So what the hell is going on?" Give her due, Skinner had a good intuition. "I'll be honest with you, because you clearly know how this job goes: Every time I encounter something with 'LaCroix' in the name there are strange things going on. I even received a kick in the ass from my superior because I poked around about you, and that I'm now stumbling into you again just backs up everything." Was it frustration which seeped out of the detective? Honestly, Katherine was a bit startled by the frank speech. Or was it just a trick, trying to ask for sympathy? However Skinner threw up her arms and sat down, shaking her head.

"I just passed out, which usually happens to even the best when they get something heavy hit against their head, and I barely avoided Venus' special drink which probably would make my headache even worse. I'm fine, not dead – thank god – so sorry to disappoint you." It may have sounded a bit pissed off but Katherine was still very suspicious, even if the detective was kine she wouldn't lower her guard that easily. "I have no idea why your investigations are blocked or something, but I can understand that it is frustrating. Some things you simply can't change." The Ventrue shrugged. "And I would offer you Venus' mixture but I guess you're not drinking during duty."

"Ha, thankfully it isn't that far yet." Foreboding cliché or sarcasm? Katherine picked the latter one.

"At least you won't be encountering me in the near future. I'm planning to go back to Europe." Dropping out some unimportant bits of information would steer the topic away from the crucial ones, and wasn't this something Mercurio had suggested? Engaging in normal conversations with humans? Katherine started to observe the reactions of Skinner a bit more closely, comparing them to her own to pick out what seemed inhuman.

"Homesick?" About that question she needed to ponder a second. Perhaps in some undeniable part of her it was true, besides the ability to clean up bits of her past. Maybe Mr. Pieterzoon would even allow a certain degree of contact with her family, since after his offer Katherine had again thought about her father and brother, even Tobias. With a lot of distance from LaCroix there was perhaps the possibility of gaining back those feelings she'd had for him. It also popped up in her mind to Embrace him at some time when she could get the permission, beforehand ghouling him so he wouldn't die or age until her request was granted by the local Prince. That's why the assumption of Skinner's was half the truth and Katherine nodded. "My grandparents came from Mozambique. They often spoke about how they missed their home country and I can understand that you can't simply shake off your origins, besides you have family there I guess." Again a nod from the vampire as her cell phone rang.

"If you'll excuse me a second...yes?" Katherine expected Mercurio, but even through her cell she was able to recognise the cold voice in an instant.

"My office. Now." And LaCroix hung up. The confusion in her mind must have reached her face.

"Everything all right?" It was asked cautiously. Somehow a welcome change in-between all the faked caring of other Kindred, something Katherine had nearly forgotten. Could she have misjudged the detective? Without a doubt she was interested in her work for LaCroix but after denying her this knowledge over and over again, stressing the fact that she would not talk about it, Skinner still kept up the conversation.

"Yes, it was only my mysterious employer who wants to discuss business." She was able to clearly spot how instantly the expression in Skinner's eyes changed.

"At this time?"

"He's kind of a workaholic."

"You're working for Mr. LaCroix again and yet you want to go back to Europe?"

"Home sweet home." Oh, if she could only know.

"Giving me a knock-back again, huh?"

"Occupational disease, Detective." There Skinner busted into laughter and raised her hands in defeat.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop asking – and it's Valerie." A hand was extended towards Katherine. It surprised her, glancing at presented hand and then back to the detective.

"Uhm, Katherine. Thanks...Valerie." She grabbed the detective's hand and shook it.

"I should visit your club when I'm off duty, and you still owe me a snack before you leave the States."_ 'Thanks Mercurio, your advice really conjures up more difficulties.'_

"If we find time for it, sure." Later she'd need to come up with a new excuse but this problem was not yet important. It made her uncomfortable that the Prince even bothered to call her personally and after his pouting yesterday it also gave her some worries, but it seemed like the surprises hadn't ended for this night as Skinner, or Valerie now, went down with her again to the exit of the Confession.

"Kat! I'm so glad you're all right." The male voice spoke in German and Katherine didn't even need to wonder whose voice it was. How could she have forgotten her former fiancé's voice so easily? However the vampire managed to hide her startled surprise, instead welcoming Tobias with a cold glare.

"What are you doing here?" Those chilly words hit him like someone splashed ice cold water in his face. The detective gladly was only able to give rotating looks between the two, foreign language be blessed.

"A...a friend of yours called me and said you were in trouble and I wanted to talk to you since you vanished so...strangely the last time we met." A friend? What the hell was going on?

"I thought I had made myself clear on that topic, and about what friend are you talking?" The hostility seemed to shake Tobias and again there was this feeling of guilt, but mercilessly Katherine shoved it aside; however it was not easy, more so with the plan of some sort in the back of her mind to come back home. Trier was not that out of reach of Amsterdam.

"Cecilia. She said you broke up with that Sebastian LaCroix guy and..." He took a deep breath, but Katherine's attention shortly slid to Valerie who again had a curious expression in her eyes as LaCroix's name was dropped. "...she said you wanted to call me, that you regret it." The Ventrue's eyes narrowed which clearly made Tobias uncomfortable. Sure, he couldn't possibly know about this side of hers but her anger was not awakened by him, but by Cecilia. How could she dare to call him! What the hell was that stupid princess thinking? It now really fit that she was on her way to the Prince. Cecilia's actions simply screamed 'endangering of the Masquerade,' however it's not like it came ill-timed. "I researched about that guy. He's not good for you. I know why you were behaving so strangely, because it's him...he...influences you."

"What the hell are you talking about? Look, you came all the way here to tell me that? Come on Tobias, I know you better. You wouldn't waste your vacancies to fly over the ocean to tell me such nonsense." The determination in Tobias' eyes again surprised her and, of course, she knew him. That was only there when he was totally convinced about something.

"I can't tell you now. Not here. I know this sounds strange but you need to listen to me. I didn't believe it either but let's go somewhere else and I'll explain, okay?" Sighing heavily, Katherine massaged her temples and shook her head.

"I can't now. I have work to do." Well it was some kind of start for the plan she had up her sleeve, but still she'd report this to the Prince and it was an opportunity to stab Cecilia somehow – wait a second! Was this actually an attempt to carry out the threat?

"It's okay. You can come to the Luckee Star Motel in Hollywood. I have a room there. It's number 2." This was outright ridiculous! How could a simple police officer afford that? It's not like she didn't know his financial status. "I'll see you there." Tobias gave her a smile and then went out the door. Even Simon gazed with a questioning look at her.

"Who was that?" Naturally, Valerie was right on it.

"Long and complicated story." At last she really sounded like she actually had a headache. "Well I'm off. Mr. LaCroix doesn't like to wait." And with a forced smile she also slipped through the door, always looking around to check that no one was following her. At least no one who was more or less visible.

"Honey, I've got the jackpot!" The happy, rough voice came out of the shadows and made Katherine nearly jump as she passed through a dark alley.

"Dammit, Imalia! Just...just stop that!" Was everyone out tonight just to stress her nerves?

"Oh come on, stop bitching, okay? I have a loooot of dirty stuff about that fat ass bitch Tawni! Listen, my plan is -"

"Sorry, I have to meet the Prince right now and if I make him wait even more, he'll mop the floor with me. Maybe later." _'Like everything else.'_ She was again right on her way to the tower, however Imalia kept talking.

"Oh then I'll just follow you, wait until the kitty is done with her Prince and then I'll share the news! I swear it's totally gross. I can't wait to give this material to the tabloids!" At least someone was happy this night. "I want her to suffer, so I'll keep the best for the big finale!" The Nosferatu kept talking about how gross Tawni was, how ugly and so on. The usual stuff Imalia had to spill about her self-proclaimed arch-nemesis until Katherine closed the posh doors of LaCroix's penthouse office. She really had a headache now.

As usual the Prince was sitting behind his desk – well it was a new one apparently – and was shuffling through some papers, occasionally signing one of them.

"I beg pardon for not coming faster, sir, but there were -" Right in the first sentence she wanted to tell him about what Cecilia had done, however he interrupted Katherine's speech by raising his hand, not saying a word. Instead he continued doing his paperwork and made her wait until he was done, the documents finely stacked and leaving only one in front of him.

"Come here." Uh oh. Those words were never a good sign according to her experience, but of course Katherine obeyed, stepping slowly to the desk of the Prince as he shoved the leftover document and his pen over to her. "Please sign." Actually she stopped now to count the 'What the hell' moments for this night. It probably would bust her brain. Eyes slowly reading the paper in front of her, it irritated her even more. It was a contract of labour with the LaCroix Foundation as his personal assistant, including an insanely high payment which made her cringe in pain and excitement at the same time on the inside but instead of saying it, her jaw dropped. Even more she'd get back the apartment in the penthouse!

"Well, sir...this is...very compelling but..." Somehow Beckett's words came to her mind, _'Princes don't handle rejection well'_, but what was LaCroix aiming for? He knew that she wanted to leave Los Angeles and now he came up with such a thing? Did he actually want her to _stay_?

"So, you reject my generous offer?" Of course it was way too much to expect him to simply say, 'I want you to stay.' Preposterous!

"I already accepted Mr. Pieterzoon's offer to go back to Europe, sir. Given different circumstances I'd definitely sign it." The usual LaCroix reaction was narrowed eyes, staring right into her face.

"It seems that I have to put it bluntly: This is a second chance I'm not usually willing to give, Miss Falkner, but with regard to your past services and your ability to handle topics _discreetly_ I am offering you advancement and trust despite your treachery and recent failure. Something not many Kindred are blessed with." Blessing or curse. The line to define it was very thin in Katherine's opinion and still a part of her was extremely tempted to sign the contract, to stay near him and make him happy and her gaze rested again on the paper for a short amount of time, but then moved back to LaCroix's face.

"I feel very honoured but I won't change my mind sir. I think this is the best for both of us." Furthermore she was kind of fed up with being served the Sabbat flirtation again and again. Yes, it was a mistake she wanted to make up for but he never gave her the opportunity to do so. Then she wanted to leave and out of the blue here it was? Now that she mentioned it in her own train of thoughts: that was somehow an odd fluke and flukes didn't happen in Kindred society. Everything served a purpose. The Prince frowned, stood up and took the pen.

"Katherine..." It nearly caused her to leap backwards as his tone was soft and in addition he'd used her first name! Her mouth went dry like a desert, though the trick had slowly gotten really old but that didn't imply it had lost its impact. Quite the contrary as she could feel how he opened her hand and placed the pen in her palm, never leaving Katherine out of his gaze. "...I offer this one last time. To decline again would be an insult, besides your debt would be paid back in a short amount of time. It would be foolish not to sign it." For a second the young Ventrue resisted. Again those honeyed words full of promises he'd given her before. Did he actually think she was that stupid? However it sounded honest and wouldn't it be dumb to decline? As if her hand had a life of its own it placed her signature on the paper right next to LaCroix's, while he gave her a satisfied, smug smile. "I knew you would recognise how charitable I can be." Katherine wanted to ram the pen into that mocking face of his! That fucking French bastard had dominated her! Her grip on the pen tightened and the idea to smash it through the document came to her mind but LaCroix was faster, taking it away, out of her grasp and putting it into a safe drawer in his desk.

"Why have you done this?" Barely she was able to hold her anger and on top of that the Prince made a pouting face and chuckled softly.

"I have done nothing." Somehow his voice sounded like a scoff to her ears. "Or are you implying I dominated you? Please, you're insulting me again." _'He did it, that prissy, snobby bastard did it AGAIN!'_ A volcano stood now in the Prince's office, only seconds away from exploding. He was right, she couldn't prove anything! "I will inform Mr. Pieterzoon of your change of mind." Against all the anger, a voice of desperation came through telling her to go immediately to the Empire Arms, however whose word was more credible? Even more so if a certain Kindred and Prince had her signature right on a contract? Katherine would only make a fool out of herself in front of Mr. Pieterzoon. LaCroix had forced her to stay in Los Angeles. All her plans, the teachings she could've received. All gone. Teeth were driven into the lower lip, a last attempt not to explode. "You seem vaguely upset, Miss Falkner. Shouldn't you be grateful, well at least now I'm able to take care of you, besides..." His hand grabbed her chin and it sent a cold wave through her body, like a block of ice being thrown into hot magma. "...I can now thank you for that...interesting title you gave me. _Le phénix rusé_, wasn't it? Quite flamboyant for my taste." That was more like a knock over for her anger to be directed at. But only slightly. _'Imalia you...YOU...DAMMIT! Stinking Sewer Rat!'_ "But I do appreciate it." The Prince smiled at her and made a step closer, scrutinizing her shortly and brushing a finger along her jaw. "You know that I can be very generous to those who serve me well." Katherine closed her eyes, however it was not because she enjoyed his touch, no, this time it only awakened refusal. He used it to manipulate her. It was far away from any kind of generosity or affection. As if the bloated French aristocrat could show any genuine emotions. He knew about her feelings and exploited them mercilessly for his own agenda.

"Please stop it." Those words were steam, a warning that the volcano would erupt. "I don't like it when you touch me."

"Indeed?" Katherine could feel his cold breath near her lips. "Nights ago it didn't appear like that." Now he turned this against her? What the hell was he thinking, and furthermore: Who the hell did he conceive himself to be? What gave him the right to do this? Nothing! He may be the Prince but no tradition stated that she somehow had to be his little toy! Her shoulders started to tremble, hands clasping and unclasping, eyes still shut.

"Sir, stop it...please...I don't want it." Voice only a whisper, still a warning.

"You're not showing any refusal," LaCroix chuckled, amused as he slid his free hand beneath her blazer, around the waist to the small of her back, closing the gap between them. _'I hate you! I hate you! Gay, sissy, spoiled, frog-sucking bastard!' _This was most certainly not the kind of affection she wanted. No! Every warning she'd let out was in vain. The realisation came as soon as the Prince's lips met hers, a breeze of a kiss, slowly turning into a storm. Her hands reached for his shoulders, gripping them tightly which made the Prince smile into the kiss. Katherine could feel it and easily saw in her mind's eye the triumphant smile, as his kiss became more demanding. It was the last drop which made her snap. To put it simply: when a woman like Katherine was touched in an inappropriate way, having worked for a long time in what was a man's domain, she needed to stand her ground. Often with words, sometimes with action and now she took action, more reflex than sane thought, delivering a blow right into the spot where it hurt the most for a man: between the legs. One would think that a Ventrue would have some kind of balls of steel, but she heard the painful gasp LaCroix let out, immediately breaking the kiss and as she opened her eyes in horror he stumbled backwards, holding his crown jewels. She'd just kicked the Prince of Los Angeles in the balls. _'God.'_ Anger was replaced by the sheer horror of her action. Panic corded her throat, as she gave a glimpse to the still standing Sheriff. There was only one possible – SANE – option. Katherine turned around and made a run out of the Prince's office. A run for her life to wherever her legs could carry her now and wherever that would be.

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AN: You think now LaCroix's a pushover (Thanks to Vivienne for that expression)? Oh just wait for the next chapter *blinks at the title at her profile*. Actually I want to thank again Vivienne for helping in word and need, especially during this chapter. I'd want to show later why LaCroix is feared, but in case of Kat this was complicated, to say the least. Juts look at the game for christ's sake! Does he ever really punishes you? No. But that's going to change...


	17. Soldier's Requiem

**Celeste: **Mhm was man in so einer Situation macht? Mit eigenen Waffen schlagen, jawoll! *hust* oder auch nicht. Und es war gut, dass Skinner nichts verstanden hat. Immer toll wenn zwei Leute in einer Sprache reden, sie sonst keiner versteht...mhm moment mal...

**Thanks to sister-b, Maellowyn** (poor little Sebastian, indeed)**, dropletsoflight, Dragonfly2003, rednightmare **(oh well badass or insane, guess the line is slim like Chunk)**. Rozielle** (he'll probably never touch her again but he likes to conquer I think) **and Zaekka** **for the reviews!****  
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Perhaps later the fact that she hadn't slammed that pompous wooden door into Cecilia's face would come to Katherine's mind, but as for now it was occupied by sheer panic. Panic she'd felt the last time she was cowering in a sewer tube, underneath her a bottomless pit. Or so it appeared in her eyes and mind. Searching for the Nosferatu hideout had been no fun at all. That was why she wasn't able to become a pilot: the human and the Kindred Katherine Falkner were utterly afraid of heights when there was no grip as security, like a rope to hold her, preventing a deadly deep fall into some awkward kind of abyss. Sadly the Kindred Katherine Falkner was also afraid of fire, courtesy of Grünfeld Bach, however to top it all her worst fear was a blond French multi-billionaire and Prince of Los Angeles, ruler of all Kindred in the metropolis. Not since she hauled her knee into his manly pride – that realisation came quite too late during the sprint out of his penthouse office and jump over the balustrade some metres below instead of wasting time running down the stairs, all while ignoring the yelling Nosferatu. Shortly the Ventrue cursed the slow-reacting button, punching it like a mad gamer would molest buttons on a gamepad. Gladly no one was apparently using the elevator, doors opening immediately but still too slowly for the taste of the fleeing vampire who every second shot a terrified glance over her shoulder, awaiting the cut of the Sheriff's sword into her neck at any given moment. Katherine only allowed herself to think a little bit again as the metal doors of the elevator closed, pressing her back into the wall, always staring at the glowing buttons which showed in which level it currently was. Too slow! _'Oh Gott, oh Gott, oh Gott!' _So much for thinking straight as a hand slapped the panicked Ventrue a bit out of it.

"How can you ignore me?" Imalia glared at her, looking badly offended. Katherine simply stared at her dumbfounded, not realising until now that she was in the company of another Kindred. Then it struck her.

"Sewers!" Gasping, Imalia was grabbed by her collar. "I need to hide! Fastest way to the sewers!"

"Honey, what the hell is wrong with you?" She tried to get out of Katherine's clutches but the Ventrue just started to shake her, nearly snapping again.

"Sewers!" Somehow she tried to dominate Imalia but her mind, unable to concentrate, failed to find the right pronunciation and the word came out like a tormented squeal full of despair.

"All right all right! Sewers, got it. Hope the little snobby Ventrue kitty then tells me what the hell is up," Imalia spilled at her, putting her hands on her hips with a pouting face. Like Katherine would care now. _'Think lady, think!' _she urged herself, running down in her mind which escape route was the most promising. From the penthouse she didn't have many options besides the elevator. When she reached the actual tower there would be stairs. It might be a cliché she was putting her hope into, but she was in the States. Stairs would only be used during emergencies, so would they probably expect her to use the elevator or not? Everything was whirling around in her head and there was no time! For sure LaCroix had already contacted the keepers of his Elysium, or would he speculate on his pride, trying to obfuscate this embarrassment?

"I wish I could obfuscate myself." Aching, Katherine put her hands to her face and rubbed them down. Suddenly she felt old.

"Oh you can." The snappy and pouting voice of the Nosferatu now had her attention.

"What?" However Imalia simply turned her head away as the elevator arrived, opening its gaping maw again. Cautiously Katherine stared out, noticing the first footsteps. "Imalia, please! This is urgent! Distract them and I'll tell you what happened, but if I'm dust I can't right? Listen, sorry for ignoring you but, damn, I'm about to get busted by the Prince!" The answer was a snort, accompanied by a small glance in her direction. Katherine really didn't have the nerves to deal with an offended diva right now but still her head was precious.

"Fine! If you're down, go to the right. There's a door to the…back entrance for the Sewer Rats. I guess you stuck-up Ventrue don't know that and then, when you need the ugly Nosferatu, you're all sweet talk, humph!" And Imalia paraded out of the elevator, head high with pouting lips which brought Katherine back to her question of using the elevator or the stairs. Elevator and stairs combined. No time to waste. Running down nearly fifty levels was, even for a Kindred, pretty much a marathon so she decided to take some stairs, jumping again over the handrail as a shortcut and using the elevator. It worked out pretty well either because her changing between those two ways was working decently or Imalia was simply a genius at holding back whatever LaCroix had sent. She reached the lobby fairly fast, sprinting to the door Imalia mentioned and thankfully reached the manhole, sliding away the heavy lid and slipping in.

The smell of the sewers was once again unpleasant, but to her shame she was used to it. _'You're such an exemplary Ventrue. Kicking your Prince in his balls and _skulking _around in the sewers like a Nosferatu.' _Katherine crawled out of the tube, stepping into the brown, foul-smelling water.

"Now what happened?" After several minutes Imalia came through the same tunnel. "Did the cat scratch the Prince, or what?"

"Kind of…" She paused. Imalia had spilled the thing with the nickname. Hell would break loose if this information were to leak out. Sure she'd probably be the Anarchs' new hero but that was a thought to relinquish, even if the image of mocking Damsel with it would be funny. _'Who's all talk now?' _Katherine chuckled and Imalia raised an eyebrow.

"What kind of? Do I need to pull everything out of your nose, honey?" The Ventrue shook her head.

"As if I would give you details. You may have saved me but you spilled that thing with _le phénix rusé_. It pretty much cornered me in the Prince's office." They started to walk, shooing away some rats.

"What? No, I didn't! Did he…Oh shit, Gary backed me up!" Hissing, Imalia kicked a rusty tin can against a wall. "I should be angry now but I guess that was a new lesson to get rid of my…vanity…pah! Yeah, you got me there."

"You're not angry?" Katherine would've wanted to have justice or something similar, however her companion only shrugged.

"I've got my lesson. He's my sire after all." That made her wonder a bit, also vaguely thoughtful; but she did not want to think about it yet. There was still an angry Prince at her neck.

"Hey, can I find shelter in the Warrens for some time until things cool down?" If they ever would. She had attacked LaCroix's virility after all.

"You're kidding me, right? A Ventrue crawling around in our home? Did you slice the smug smile off of his face? I mean, the guys who were after you really made it clear they'd been sent to drag your bony ass back into the Prince's office." So she could expect to be chased after all. No hiding it out of pride it seemed and at least Imalia seemed to enjoy her predicament.

"Ventrue honour and stuff. As if I have any idea about it. What was that about obfuscate you mentioned?" That was not going out of her head.

"You can learn other disciplines foreign to your clan. At least Gary said that. It's only harder. I really didn't pay much attention." It was possible after all? That was great news, but that it was harder was some kind of enthusiasm killer.

"So you could teach me obfuscate right?" Screw those reading-in-the-dark abilities Simon had. Hiding her ass was way more important now.

"Yeah, I can." Imalia looked at her oddly. "But why should I?" Katherine shrugged.

"I can offer to teach you another discipline in exchange." However the Nosferatu seemed to like this suggestion.

"Teach me how you manage to impress people, you know? That walking into a room and having everyone's eyes on you. It would be like before this Texas Chainsaw Massacre thing." Oh great, a Nosferatu with presence? Oh well why not? After all she'd be a Ventrue with obfuscate.

Fortunately at first the other Nosferatu, even Gary didn't care much about her at all. Well she was Ventrue but not an unusual guest in the Warrens so far, though of course after some nights questions arose as to why she was barricaded up even during the day in Imalia's room, but they fended them off with bitching about Tawni. Nice cover-up and no one was interested in that kind of stuff, so to please Imalia Katherine played along – besides during that course she began to understand her coterie member a bit. Wasn't it the same with her and Cecilia, in some sort of way? Simply because Cecilia had all that which she wanted. As Katherine began to realise this unpleasant little fact, she also began to ponder during the nights. Often sitting somewhere in the Warrens, brooding, thinking and ignoring snappy comments from the shadows. When she wasn't occupied with thinking, Katherine tried to utilise what Imalia had taught her about obfuscate and she was right: it was harder. Learning dominate, fortitude and presence somehow came naturally, at least leaving her feeling some type of reaction that indicated the proper functioning of the gift, but with obfuscate? There was nothing. Not even a tickle. Imalia described it as taking a blanket and covering yourself with it. Shadows. Blanket. What an equation. Apparently LaCroix wasn't making a bloated tantrum out of the situation like someone stole his sarcophagus, else she would've run out to the Anarchs to get a heroic parade before dying after all. Just imagine the amount of shame the dear Prince would have to face, but Katherine had no interest in dying and even less for those Anarch punks. So after another unsuccessful and frustrating try at covering herself in shadows, the Ventrue sought out a desolate, calm place without too many rats. Her favourite place was a couch near some piled up garbage and a single lamp.

Gladly she couldn't smell herself, despite the fact that everything else had overshadowed the smell of the dirty clothes she was wearing by now. But down here no one cared about that and for the first time Katherine analyzed why she'd gotten into this mess. After her illegal Embrace she got along quite well with the Prince. _'Why?' _Surprisingly the answer was relatively easy to pin down: she was the obedient soldier. Period. After everything blew up, she'd had too much time to think about what other Kindred told her. LaCroix wanting her dead, because every time she showed up in front of him he was reminded of his inability to rule. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Fact was he made use of her, saw what she was able to do when no one else did. Well Isaac Abrams had too but the smug Toreador and Baron of Hollywood was an Anarch and simultaneously she had to waltz into his jewellery store, announcing her presence. Pretty Camarilla style for her taste. It's not like she didn't have any respect for LaCroix, however he always wanted her to behave like a proper Ventrue. How could she behave like a proper Ventrue if no one bothered to tell her how? Katherine swallowed a lump in her throat. He had. Not directly but the Prince had. More or less. Like his sentence about how deceiving kine was just as easy as killing them. That was indirect for, 'Use your head.' She did. It worked. He was happy and she was praised. "I messed it up." Burrowing her face into her hands, the Ventrue shook her head once again. She always looked at his flaws, not at her own, blaming every misfortune she met on him. Katherine felt like a stupid, stubborn teenager. Her first mistake was to believe what Caleb had said back in Germany, the next was simply to take an assignment from the Regent, hungry for information without knowing if it was _really_ worth the trouble. She could have asked LaCroix but on the other hand it always appeared to her that she was just annoying him, reminding him of what Jack said about his inability to rule; she was a constant trigger of that, and wasn't it her own problem that he was able to manipulate her only by getting a little too close? Katherine should have made things clear from the beginning, instead she longed for his attention against her better judgment and work policy: No flings with those you work with. Mix it with her bad temper, Hargreaves' teachings and that's why she was here now. _"Do not falter before using force! Those who don't listen to your words deserve punishment!" _That was one of the first lessons and she had apparently adapted to it well. Too well, but Hargreaves always made his point clear. Katherine shuddered, refusing to remember any more details about it. At least for now.

After all it wouldn't be easy, perhaps impossible at all to get back on LaCroix's good side and she didn't want to run away anymore. Something she'd sworn to herself, though it'd be running away not to face the consequences now. On the other hand: what did she have to lose? Not a lot, except her life. The plan she'd come up with, to ghoul Tobias and clean up the mess she'd left behind was again a mere excuse to justify her anger towards the Prince. They were humans, and what purpose did humans serve anyway? Sure Mercurio had his uses and he was a ghoul so he wasn't cattle in her eyes, but Tobias? Why should she really want those feelings back? Also, having him as a ghoul would serve nothing, because he wasn't even suitable enough to be fed upon. Katherine stood and began to walk up and down. Indeed her behaviour was childish due to the overwhelming new world which had opened up to her all of a sudden. She wasn't like that. Of course her bad temper had always been there but still she used her head, planning strategies, figuring out cases during her time in the military police. That couldn't be gone now! Perhaps if she were to bring the fact to LaCroix, that his pretty little princess was endangering the Masquerade…yes. No one knew besides her. It'd be a major slap to his reputation if this were to become public, so she needed evidence. No, no, blackmailing the Prince would be idiotic. She wanted to prove herself useful and trustworthy. "Where's the connection?" Tobias said he was called by Cecilia, so that must have been recorded somehow but how could she get her hands on that? The Ventrue sighed and sat down again, grabbing a rusty slim metal pipe and drawing two circles into the dirt, between them a connection line. Tobias had said some strange things which were unsettling. Did he actually know about vampires? However even Cecilia couldn't be that dumb, besides she'd endanger her beloved Sebastian. There was more and Katherine needed to investigate this but she had no time. Nearly a whole week she'd dwelled down here, feeling with every night how the thirst became stronger, lurking up her throat as she thought always of her situation, of LaCroix.

_'Prince LaCroix…' _He never left her mind. Why? Must be the blood bond and ever since she kissed him at the airport her longing had become quite stronger. Why had he kissed back anyway? After that he'd begun to exploit it, behaving strangely when she was around. Absolutely nothing like he'd behaved during the sarcophagus course. It started…wait! "Not possible…" Slowly realisation came with the whispered words, the evidence gradually forming a theory. He had played along too well in the charade, and after discovering that damn envelope with Gary's little gift…after that it became even more confusing. Little by little she began to analyze all her meetings with LaCroix since then. Of course everything appeared to her like he wanted to bind her further but the way he did it was quite odd. Why didn't he simply dominate her? Could he be affected after all? Katherine had always thought that the Prince was too old, his blood less diluted and therefore easily too powerful to be bound by her blood. Or could he? "I'll be damned…" Everything just lay out in front of her! All of this could be completely wrong but there was one risky way to find out. Again: what did she have to lose, as with each night her urge to see him was growing bigger like a compulsion, and she once more thought about the words the Prince had spoken last time, his hand at her back, the expression in his grey eyes. Was she that hopelessly in 'love'? Katherine's eyes narrowed upon remembering the kind of kiss he gave her. _"I owe you," _it said, however he'd smiled as she touched him, apparently to play along like he'd…conquered her.

It wasn't like she didn't have any experience. Hands down, she had been a normal woman in her mortal days and Tobias hadn't been the first man in her life. It was like he wanted to make her angry. All those words he said fuelled the steam. Could it be that he used her anger against her? After his little showing off of manliness with that sabre thing he'd engaged her in a little competition of who had the lead, and she'd been angry during that particular moment. "Fuck, no way!" she hissed as the totally insane idea popped up in her mind that LaCroix enjoyed this! However it was to kill two birds with one stone – no, four. Preventing her from leaving Los Angeles, making her angry and seizing the opportunity to bind her with his blood if she were to lose her self-control in the process. On top of that enjoying the competition. No, cancel the last thing. Someone like LaCroix would not enjoy that with someone like her, an illegally-sired fledgling with no noble blood whatsoever. There was still the bond of course. If he was affected. Ugh…headache. _'Let's find out.' _It wasn't a decision made on impulse but she _had _to either prove this all was wrong or that it was not and apologise, even with her life at stake; besides she had no options other than hiding forever in the Warrens or fleeing from L.A., which were all against her own set-up rule. _'Damn my pride.' _But it was all she had left. Along with the urge to go to LaCroix, but first she should have a shower and change of clothes. The pride again and Mercurio wouldn't call the Prince like a squealing girl if she were to pop up. After all Katherine wanted to deliver herself up, only not looking like the scrapped, smelling Kindred she was at the moment.

The one week of time spent in the sewers gave her a better knowledge of the several ways to travel to certain parts of L.A. while plotting with Imalia. Said Nosferatu was also a bit bitchy again now that Katherine wanted to get out of the Warrens. _"But we wanted to send some stuff I have about that hag to the press!" _She promised her she'd read it when it was published, but still the Nosferatu was pouting and not talking to her anymore. Oh well, she'd cool down. Sliding up the lid of the manhole Katherine crawled out, walking to the Santa Monica apartments and making it past the door to Mercurio's who organised some of his goods.

"Man, sweetie! Where have ya' been? Got a pissed call from LaCroix that ya' would show up, and your friend also asked where ya' been." Looking up, the ghoul stared at her with big eyes.

"Long story. It's better you don't know it, else LaCroix would want your head too." Naturally she'd told Imalia not to tell Simon anything for the Caitiff's own safety, and after the shower she finally felt less like a hiding rat again. "I'm going straight to the Prince. We'll see how he reacts."

"You're kidding, right? I know how LaCroix is when he's upset and he was. It's better not to go until he's calmed down, believe me." It wasn't without reason that Grout had feared LaCroix, however this was a step which needed to be made.

"I can't hide forever, besides I want to prove a theory. I won't barge in and beg for forgiveness." Not that she expected mercy anyway but she had to find out, surrendering to the feeling which beckoned her to the Venture Tower. Mercurio only sighed.

"Be careful okay?" Sure, if she were to die he would lose a good customer. So Katherine simply shrugged and went to the blood bank to spend the last of her money on a blood pack. The urge to go Downtown was too strong to resist any longer. Vandal's mocking tone was silenced by bared fangs. Lowly ghoul. Mercurio was, regarding this, more refreshing and less insulting and even the ride to the tower stressed her nerves. It was strange that she wanted to go there as fast as possible, however she'd think about it later. If there would be a 'later' that is, and upon opening the lavish doors to the Prince's office it crawled slowly into Katherine's mind that this was all a bad idea. It was stomped down fast and arose the same way as her sight lay on LaCroix who sat behind his desk, arms resting on the armrest, shooting daggers out of his cold, narrowed grey eyes. Of course he awaited Katherine, her presence having been announced by either Chunk or his secretary. It came as no surprise that, as soon as she reached his desk, the Sheriff set himself in motion, grabbing her hair and forcing her down as he kicked into the hollow of one of her knees. It was the Prince who spoke first.

"So you finally crawled out of whatever hole you were hiding in," he scoffed, as her head was ripped backwards by the Sheriff, exposing her throat and she was now able to look at LaCroix. She could see how the bones stood out white on his knuckles, clawing around the armrest. "Do you expect clemency now, after this…_humiliation_?" The last word was hissed in a low tone. "With whom do you think you're dealing, maggot?" His fist hurled down on the table, fangs exposed as he jumped out of his chair. "I should kill you! I should kill you _right now_!"

"You're free to deal with me in whatever way you see fit my Prince." In an instant – Katherine didn't even know what happened – LaCroix stood in front of her, the strangely shaped paper cutter he always had on his desk pinpointing at her throat, squeezing against it but not injuring her. Not yet. Only a bit more pressure and it would pierce through.

"Don't dare to address me when I have not allowed you to speak!" The Beast could be spotted in his eyes, regardless of that Katherine dared to. She needed to.

"Please, hear me-" A hard slap against her face interrupted the sentence, the Sheriff's tight grip preventing her from falling to the side.

"_Silence!_ Spare me your begging!" Her lips thinned. She didn't want to beg, she wanted to apologise first, admitting how blind and foolish she was. "You are a shame for our blood! A shame for me! Your behaviour is suitable only for those barbaric Brujah Anarchs! Were you hiding there? Did you tell Nines Rodriguez about your heinous acrions? I should have seen it coming, Judas!" Okay, that was quite off the track. If she'd set it out into L.A., how she embarrassed the Prince, it would have already spread like a fire. Katherine had sat in the Warrens! She'd been the first to know it too! It was only news that Cecilia was in Hollywood, guarding Ash Rivers. What a fucking joke. Maybe that's also why she wanted to go to the Prince. His hand with the paper cutter at her throat trembled in anger.

"No my Prince. I'm here to apologise, not to beg. The Anarchs don't know anything." No interruption, so Katherine continued. It was an opportunity she didn't want to miss, perhaps the only opportunity she'd ever have to speak. Letting it pass would be foolish. "I had time to…think." And to pick her words carefully. "I was blind to your clemency, to the chances you gave me. I threw them away, that is why I expect no mercy now but I'm too tired to run away." It was odd, but now things bubbled to the surface she'd never shared with anyone before. Why she quit the military had not been because of post-traumatic stress. It was something else. "This time I'll face the consequences even it means my Final Death." Not crumbling beneath the burning stare of the Prince, she faced him with the courage she'd built up during the past days in the Warrens. Yes he was an asshole, a merciless manipulator but at least he was a monster she knew. A monster who had found a use for her, giving some meaning to the mess she'd slid into after running from the consequences of her mistake in Kunduz, consequences she would've had to bear if one of her comrades had decided to talk. It all came down to her running away. It was time to stop it. "May it be suitable for a Ventrue or not, my sire wasn't a good one himself –" Another hard slap on the other side of her face stopped the words which poured out of her mouth like a waterfall.

"Never…_never_ mention in my presence such rubbish again! Actually, never mention it even in your thoughts!" Now this was kind of irritating, however it could be as Jack mentioned: she was reminding him of his inability to rule. Nonsense. Katherine listened to those words again, instead relying on her own conclusions.

"I accept what I am, I don't deny it. I'm neither rich nor noble, but I accept my role as a Cainite." LaCroix raised his hand and the Sheriff pulled her head further back, making the last words more of a rattle.

"You sound like an _antitribu_…" He was really, really angry, causing a cold shiver of fear to run down her spine. "…the teachings of those Sabbat animals!" The jaw of the Prince's tightened as he gritted his teeth, fury in his eyes. Why was he so upset about it? He was the Prince! He shouldn't give a damn about what she sounded like and dispose of her like the pawn she was. "Sheriff. Proceed as I instructed you." The sudden change in his voice made her twitch. There was no anger anymore, only cold monotony. So it was time now for the said punishment. "Do you have any last words before facing your desired consequences?" Katherine tried more or less to shake her head, and the Sheriff dragged her out by the hair, causing the young Ventrue to squeal in surprise. More odds were added as the Prince followed them into a small but comfortable room which, like all rooms in the penthouse, was very lavishly furnished. _'A cabinet?' _Despite her looming Final Death Katherine began to scrutinize the room, spotting a wall above the lightened fireplace full of portraits, arranged in a particular manner. From the top downward, the highest person was dressed in an old fashion, the next one too but slowly they became more…modern. Sometimes there were more portraits beneath another but it only seemed to track down a certain line and the last portrait confirmed what she was thinking: It was some sort of ancestor gallery, and LaCroix's portrait was at the end. No, wait! Shouldn't there also be Cecilia? However, the Prince's voice jolted her out of this puzzle.

"I demand retribution for your insults. One finger for every one you have dared to spill." He sat down into a huge easy chair, never leaving the still-kneeling Ventrue in front of him out of his eyes. What did he mean by it? "You are free to leave when none of your fingers are left, however…" Taking the bottle which stood on a small table cooled by a bucket of ice together with two goblets, he poured some blood into one of them. "…if you leave before that, the Sheriff will hunt you down. This is a punishment common in our clan and I do expect you to bear it in accordance with your words." Dumbfounded, Katherine nodded. Hell, she seemed to be getting a last chance! Whatever punishment it was and why her fingers played a role in it didn't concern her at the moment. "Good. Place your hands on the floor." She did as he commanded and LaCroix raised a hand again. The Sheriff turned around, then suddenly she felt a kick against the back of her head, heaviness pressing her down to the ground as she felt something brazenly cold on her thumb. "Repeat: I will never insult my Prince again." Rustling of paper could be heard and the pressure against her thumb tightened, squeezing the flesh and then the bones. Katherine let out a pained gasp.

"I will never insult my Prince again." Feeling the pain burning, biting on her lower lip and letting out a tormented scream as she could feel how the finger was cut from her hand. Instinctively Katherine started to breathe frantically; the pressure of the Sheriff's boot on her head was fortified and the second placed on her hand so she wouldn't drag it away.

"A Ventrue does not show signs of weakness! Repeat!" Another rustle as a page of the newspaper was turned.

"A Ventrue does not show signs of weakness…" Was the pain on her cheek or the pain in her hand worse? Katherine couldn't tell as the cold object closed around her forefinger, tightening again until it was cut. To swallow the scream, Katherine bit on her lower lip again and letting out a stifled gasp, then gritting teeth again. Eight fingers to go, and LaCroix hinted that there were more insults than fingers for one night.

* * *

AN: Well, Katherine won't be able to tell anything for some time so we'll shift the next chapter into someone else again. It will be a total change of perspective, however I think it'll be a lot of fun to L.A.'s nightlife through the eyes of a human who has no idea what's going on but smells something fishy.


	18. Hollywood Reporter

A loud, merciless tone interrupted a sweet and calm sleep until a hand grabbed the cell phone. "Skinner..." Her voice was muffled because of the pillow which covered the half of her face. Listening to the voice on the other end, the detective repressed a yawn. "I'm there in several minutes." Things like these happened often in her job. Crime didn't sleep and good god, Valerie often wished it would. Still she loved the job and lamenting about the downsides of it wouldn't make it any better to peel herself out from the warm and pleasant embrace of the blanket. Dead people weren't unusual here in L.A., however a dead star was some kind of unusual.

Still, despite all that she loved Los Angeles.

Valerie stood up from the edge of her bed, making minor adjustments to her tangled hair before tying it together with a scrunchie. For more wasn't time and besides: top styled detectives in the middle of the night were a myth from Hollywood. Ironically the crime scene was in Hollywood and an idea struck her while thinking about it and getting dressed in a hurry. This was the perfect opportunity to visit the Luckee Star motel – of course after work. It was on her to-do list since this guy from Germany mentioned the name of it while talking to Katherine. Well, it was not nice to this but once Valerie sniffed something fishy, there was no way it could be ignored by her and according to Katherine's expression as he showed up she wasn't very happy to see him. She really did like Katherine; otherwise Valerie wouldn't be that friendly to her and remorse poked hard into her stomach but still; Katherine was...strange so to say. This feeling was not easy to describe, possibly a mixture of sympathy and respect with a grain of curiosity and caution. Fine the grain of curiosity rather a full grown plant, tickling her every second when she met her new acquaintance and she even worked for the untouchable LaCroix Foundation! God damn!

With a sigh, Valerie closed the door of her car and started it. The streets of L.A. were still busy as if it were day similar to veins in a body pulsing with a never ending stream of blood in which she swam to Hollywood, one of the many hearts of the city. Glamorous, iridescent and breathtaking, equally beautiful and merciless at the same time. Without any problems the detective was able to find the building where the dead body was found. A bunch of reporters were already assembled, surrounding it like vultures with flashlights and illuminating the already bright streets. Two officers stood in front of the door, behind a police line like silent guardians of the deceased. Valerie pushed some of the reporters aside, making way to reach the door and showing her badge to the policemen, gaining entrance to the building which was not so crowded like outside. A sole man stood in the room, which was probably some kind of entrance hall.

"'bout time you'd show up, Val."

"Good evening to you too, Greg." A snort.

"It's in the middle of the goddamn night!" Her partner Greg was always in a bad mood when they received a nightly wake-up call. Valerie thought it would be slightly better after his vacation but it was even worse.

"Jake woke up?" Greg nodded. There she had the main reason for his dark mood. The call woke up his little son and Lucy must have nearly choked him, for letting his mobile tone ringing so loud. With a silent gesture of comfort, Valerie placed her hand on his shoulder and patted him. "Fill me in, so that we can go to bed back again."

"Our corpse up there in the bathroom is Tawni Sessions. A shame for such a young girl dying this early."

"Violent death?"

"Naahh, looks like suicide. There was a ton of dirty stuff in the tabloids about her the last weeks. Downed a whole bottle of valium with some gin. Wanna take a look?"

"That's our job, right?" Again a snort from Greg. The faster Valerie would inspect the scene and scribble her signature beneath the sheet of paper her partner was holding in his hands with a clipboard, the faster they could give green light to transport the corpse into a morgue for autopsy.

Upstairs it was filled with busy policemen, gathering evidence and Greg pointed over to a door which led to the bedroom. The cold corpse which was once Tawni Sessions rested on the bed, looking as if she was still sleeping, surrounded by two bottles of gin. One bottle was still half full, while the other was empty, lying next to an empty bottle of valium.

"We expect to find some sort of suicide note in the next few minutes."

"Who found her?"

"Her former boyfriend. He broke up with her after those pictures circled around in the tabloids and wanted to bring her the apartment keys."

"Showbiz is cruel." Tawni Sessions was just a local star. Valerie didn't want to think about how it was in the higher spheres of fame.

"Job hazard, Val."

"You're cynic again, Greg."

"You'd be too if you're getting older."

"You must be a wonderful daddy."

"Oh shut up and sign already." The clipboard Greg was carrying around landed in her hands and Valerie couldn't resist giving Greg a smug smile while signing.

"At last this case is clear, not like our special one."

"Oh don't you dare remind me 'bout this damn Southland Slasher."

"Never happened." She smiled. "Now go home, I'll handle the rest.

"You're a demon and an angel." Smiling, Greg patted her now on the shoulder and left. Valerie was single, so it was only fair to take over now and he couldn't ask why she wasn't going straight home after the job was done. He'd tease her with some jokes about dirty stuff in motels.

Said motel wasn't that cheap after all and the story with the killed man in one of their rooms attracted the bizarre clientele of murder scene tourism seeking thrill to spend a night in a room which was stalked by a murderer.

In front of the reception Valerie found some generic looking guy dressed in a sports suit, writing feverishly in a notebook. However the guy should be happy not to be disturbed, because the person she was looking for walked right down the floor. Jeez, what a lucky night! It paid out to be patient. Sometimes.

"Hello? Mister?" To gain his attention Valerie walked after him, waving and he turned around with a questioning face. "I doubt you remember. We've met – more or less – at the Confession in Downtown and we share the same friend: Katherine Falkner." That seemed to lighten up a bulb in the man's head.

"Distinctly." The thick German accent was not to overhear.

"It was kind of short and we didn't exchange a word. What a coincidence we're meeting here." Pretty blatant lie but better than the blatant truth which sounded probably awkward.

"Yeah, but sorry, I'm in a hurry. Kat wanted to speak to me and I really have waited for her to call." So easy he wouldn't get rid of her, even more when Katherine was around. The last week Valerie visited the Confession, hoping for a nice chat and Venus told her she hadn't seen her partner in nearly three weeks and usually Katherine showed up at last once a week to take care of the accounting.

"Problem if I come along? I just wasn't able to catch her and I want to check out if she's okay." At first the man's expression showed refusal but then he finally nodded slowly. "Great! I'm Valerie, Valerie Skinner."

"Tobias Richter. I'm Kat's, err former fiancée." They shook hands and this was quite – uh – also unexpected?

"Ouch, sorry if I opened some old wounds." Both of them walked out of the motel into the direction of the well known Cavoletti Cafe.

"They are rather fresh and that's the topic I'd like to discuss with her," he said grumpy and Valerie couldn't ignore the feeling that she was really misplaced when they'll meet. On the other hand the curiosity was poking her. "Where did you meet Kat?"

"During the job." Valerie smiled innocent. Would be bad timing to go into details.

"What job?"

"Is this an interrogation?"

"Occupational disease."

"You're kidding. You sound like a policeman."

"I am."

"Explains things and you sound quite a bit like my partner."

"Kat had problems with the police?"

"Uhh no, don't worry."

"She freaked a bit out after the death of her mother. I'm simply here to get her back home." His voice was full of determination and Valerie decided that it was better not ask more questions, even if she had a ton of them at the moment. Tobias seemed way more talkative than Katherine, besides said person talked to man who sat at one table of Cavoletti Cafe. Katherine stopped talking to him when she spotted the two of them and sat down on a vacant table. Valerie couldn't tell if her presence was not asked for. Forehanded she took the initiative, feeling too uncomfortable. Her curiosity didn't go this far to forget modesty.

"Hi, I just wanted to say hello because I didn't meet you at the Confession." Valerie looked at Tobias and then back to Katherine with her usual poker face. "So, uhm...I'll leave you two now..."

"Nein, nein it's okay if you'll stay Valerie." The eyes rested now on Katherine, who was silent for a minute.

"Fine with me," she said finally and Valerie couldn't help but wonder. Hopefully they're not pulling out the German speaking thing again. "Go ahead and order something. I'll invite you both."

"I really wonder from where you have the money to pay." The sentence was dripping with bitterness and no one spoke until the waiter came to pick their orders. Valerie shifted a bit uncomfortable in her chair, still feeling a bit misplaced.

"Well she's working for the LaCroix Foundation. I guess they pay well." She said with a smile to lift the tension a bit which hung thick in the air. Silence. Okaaaay, they must have parted in a very unlucky manner. The dishes were served while in the background that guy was ordering the whole menu.

"So you're not with that rich twerp anymore?" Valerie could not even guess who was meant with 'rich twerp' or could it be? No, nonsense.

"Tobias, please," in opposite to Tobias's bitter undertone, Katherine sounded pretty calm. "I thought I was clear the last time and my private life is not a matter to you anymore nor would I discuss it but here we are, because you still cling to the past." Valerie was doomed to simply listen to their conversation.

"Whow, sorry! What'd you do if your fiancée went into another country for further education? For _two_ fucking months! Never calling or anything and then coming back just to blow the relationship in passing! Hell, if I wouldn't work for the police I wouldn't even have known that you have been at the airport!" Poking around in her food, Valerie understood now how their relationship ended. Quite not the elegant way and if she was honest: her sympathy was with Tobias if Katherine blew it really that way.

"I already told you why. Leave it like this please." According to Tobias's clenched fist around the spoon he wouldn't.

"Come on, Kat! I have my pride too! You blew everything we built together away because of this Sebastian guy!" Bad timing. Valerie had tried a sip of the coffee and choked. "You're acting weird! Not like you at all! How you talk, how you're dressing and all this..." He helplessly opened his arms to gesture that he meant the cafe. "...this is not you! I can't believe you're after money. You're not such a woman, I know you!" It may be rude, but this time Valerie couldn't resist asking.

"Sebastian? Sebastian LaCroix?" Questioning, her eyes wandered between both former lovers who ignored her question.

"She even threatened me with his 'organisation'."

"Okay, time out! I have only a slight idea what's going on and we don't know each other for long." How could she express it the best? "So let me get this straight: You left Tobias for a man named Sebastian right?" Katherine seemed to hesitate a second, then nodded. "Sebastian LaCroix?" The poker face was now cracking and showed a glimpse of anger.

"Yes." Katherine poked around in her salad. "I didn't want to make a fuss about it. I hope you can keep it for yourself, Valerie."

"That...blows my mind..." The irony, oh the irony. That's why Katherine blocked every question about her work. Was it even a job? The whole last year after the terrorist attack on the Venture Tower was dedicated to find any opening in the LaCroix Foundation until she and her partner were whistled back and now here she sat right in front of it. More or less. She really liked Katherine in some way and the offer for friendship was genuine. Could she really use her? Probably not, even if her tongue was itching to do so.

"Can you keep it for yourself? I know you're interested in the Foundation, but if you're going to question me about I request you to leave." What should she do? Of course Tobias's drop with the organisation was fertile soil for more grains of curiosity.

"No questions about it anymore." Raising her hands in defeat, Valerie took another sip from the coffee.

"Tobias..." Katherine made a small pause before continuing. "...it seems like you don't know me at all. I won't come back."

"Is it because the death of your mother? Kat, your father needs you and I need you too back home." Tobias placed his hand on hers but twitched back as he earned an ice cold stare from Katherine for it.

"Partly and again: I won't go back. I'll stay here for a main reason and you know it. Please stop following me." In his eyes it was clear he wouldn't but Katherine seemed not to notice unlike Valerie. Instead Katherine ate from the salad, just to spill it out into a napkin.

"Awful!" Valerie and Tobias stared irritated at her. Katherine turned around to the man to whom she was talking before. "This is not eatable!" Like the other two, he stared at her irritated. "_You should write a bad review_! This is an insult to every refined palate."

"Yes...I'm going to write a review that will destroy this restaurant." It was a nearly obedient response. _'What the hell was that?' _Valerie looked at Tobias who was seemingly confused as she was as Katherine slammed some dollars on the table.

"I'm leaving now. If you'd like, you can go with me to the Confession, Valerie." But the detective shook her head.

"Better to go to bed now." Besides she had some other ideas in her mind. "Sorry."

"A pity." Katherine turned to Tobias. "I really wish you the best and that you'll soon get over it. Please don't contact me anymore. Goodbye." She left them sitting alone at the table, waving for a cab which would bring her back Downtown. Valerie promised not to ask her about the LaCroix Foundation, but she never promised to ask others and Tobias seemed to have valuable information. The detective wouldn't go to bed yet. Not after this meeting and it's interesting revelations.

"You won't go back Tobias, am I right?"

"Yes."

"Fine, perhaps I can help you and you can help me. Between police officers so to say."

"What do you have in mind?"

"What do you know about Sebastian LaCroix and the LaCroix Foundation?"

* * *

AN: Not dead yet! Uhh...Still Alive? Bad pun's bad. Sorry for taking so long for an update. Things got busy but more worse is that Ivy got also swallowed by work and everything I'll publish from now on is not beta read by her. So prepare yourself for some torture of the english language. I'm hesitating to search for a new beta, because...she also put in a lot of time and effort into the story. It's so to say both our story, besides she set my expectations for a beta pretty high. I think no one can replace her and that I'd search. That's why I put the info into the story summary, that Ivy only beta read till ch.17. I don't want her name to be associated with my crappy grammar skills. Oh god, I sound like a lamenting widow...


	19. Learning Curve

**Madre de dios**! I never thought that there would be such a huge response after my 8 month break. Thanks to **Celeste** (und dann auch noch so schnell! Wie hast du das Update mitbekommen?), **dropletsoflight **(missed you!), **Shikangae** (*whimpers scared*), **sister-b** (you know...men are so sensitive),**Topgallant** (it's refreshing to change views),** rednightmare** (thanks again for the warm welcome!) and **Maellowyn** (Mal sehen ob du nach dem Lesen noch denkst sie hat keinen Knacks weg von der Strafe *g*) for the reviews!

And now back to Kat!

* * *

Ashen taste of a foul substance still lingering in her mouth, savouring like rotten lettuce and roadkill, Katherine set foot into the Confession. Leaving Valerie and Tobias alone shouldn't be a problem. They were only Kine and even after turning her back on the Sabbat Katherine couldn't turn her back so easily on their teachings. Truth to be told: LaCroix did his deed to expel some of them during the time in his cabinet.

"_We are Kindred, not Cainites! Never use that term again in my presence or in the presence of other Kindred."_

A finger on the left hand itched, pounding like the beat of the music in her ears, the sentence literally cut into flesh. Every night the Prince and the Sheriff came back and after the third one she lost track about the time, losing herself in frenzy. Like Hargreaves told her: The Beast was a way to show power.

"_Losing to the Beast is a sign of weakness."_

After the incident, he didn't left some blood in the cabinet like he did in the past nights when leaving and Katherine realised soon, that it was a punishment and to observe how deep the lesson was also cut into her mind. Doubt arouse that it may have been a bad idea to underestimate Valerie and Tobias. Yes, they were easy to kill, fragile and weak but not long ago she had many encounters with mortals and they had no problems to reduce her to ashes. Well they were in groups and had guns, Valerie and Tobias are only two persons, plus it seemed like the issues were from the table. Valerie wouldn't ask her about LaCroix anymore and Tobias would go back to Germany. Case closed like the task from the Prince convincing Flayton to write an _unfavourable_ article about the Cavoletti Cafe.

"Hey partner, your money's been piling up again and someone called Valerie asked for you." Venus never asked where she had been the past weeks. Venus never asked why and where. _'There are also useful Kine.'_ With lot of time for her to think about more issues, not only about the sick relationship she shared with the Prince, the conclusion was that Venus and Mercurio were useful but also food the same time but not like livestock. They weren't simply replaceable and in another sense they must to be more than just mere food.

"Yes, I know. Thanks anyway." Her share was upstairs in Venus's office. On the way Katherine gave a short nod to Simon who – of course – looked curious. With head shaking she gestured him that it was nothing to talk about. The Caitiff shifted on his feet and it wasn't hard to imagine a fitting displeased growl he made which was swallowed by the DJ's scratching of records to make an old 80's song more appealing for the audience. What attracted Katherine's attention was the missing Heather, however collecting money and the documents came first and given different circumstances she'd have brought a laptop along but at the moment she was still thinking, processing all the sentences LaCroix carved into her mind and how she could get back on his good side. _'He could at last have considered that his behaviour in regards of the sarcophagus wasn't very different either.' _Katherine remembered his speech well before she was allowed to open it, his beast taking over with the lust for power. How could she dare to ask him?

She left the Confession, but not forgetting Simon and to ask him where Heather was. At last she learned also that it was not a good idea to leave others with too many questions, that's why he got a short explanation minus the details: A job for the Prince took a bit longer than expected. That she was able to take care of herself and having a new 'old' haven above Trip's pawn shop. Wishing her coterie member a good night who also didn't know where the missing red haired girl was, Katherine thought about how the Camarilla safe house has been her starting point after freshly joining the ranks of the damned, starting from there anew. More lessons from the Prince.

"_You will move back into the Camarilla safe house in Santa Monica. From there wait, until you'll get an assignment from me. I strictly forbid you to accept any other bidding from other Kindred and I forbid you to go anywhere else until I say so or give you my permission. Your club is an exception but keep your visits as short as possible. You are allowed to go now. I will contact you if necessary and your monthly payment, less various disbursements, will be sent to you."_

LaCroix seemed to be sure Katherine didn't want to leave L.A. anymore and he was correct. The little flea was gone, cut off.

"_I am now your Sire."_

The pronunciation, the way he hissed those words in her ear have been sharper than any knife or wire cutter could ever be, ripping the curtain of pain open with sheer horror and fear, because those words said _I spared your life again. I own you. You are my property now._ Katherine realised that this was the horror she brought upon herself. Not Sebastian LaCroix, not the Camarilla, the Sabbat or the Anarchs. It was Katherine Falkner. That's what scared her. She couldn't run away from herself.

Walking up the creaking wooden stairs to her used up haven, Katherine spotted the newest issue of the L.A. Sun what made her stomach nearly turn. Every time before the Sheriff cut one of her fingers LaCroix said a sentence for her to repeat and turned a page in his newspaper. The newest issue of the Sun. Hastily her legs began to move, out of the cramped floor into her cramped apartment. The last night she spent her time cleaning it, removing the strange stench and most important: the disgusting bed and mattress, spending the night on a bunch of blankets lying on the ground. An improvement over the last week where she spent the day, cramped in a corner to rise and wait for the Prince to pay her a visit. Once she even smiled but it was a pure cynical smile, comparing her situation with a rude step-child getting spanked by her daddy, the newspaper adding more to this bizarre scenery where the father appeared younger than the child. What a mindfuck.

Katherine slammed the door shut behind her, suppressing the vitae which crawled up her gullet. It helped to close the eyes and after a minute the feeling was gone, the laptop fired up and ready for work. First priority was of course informing the Prince that she met Tommy Flayton like he ordered and a negative review was as good as written. The Ventrue stared at the digital letter. Should she mention her meeting with Tobias? Was it even important to the Prince if she was meeting with Kine? Not hers to judge and a short sentence was added, mentioning the event. Done and send button hit. Now it was time for accounting, an activity which calmed her, something familiar. Old habits hardly die and Katherine was still in need of an anchor in some sort. Routine to clear her mind from all the thinking about complicated lessons, thinking about uncomplex chart of accounts until the laptop spoke to her with a soft female voice "You received mail," and the Prince's name as sender popped up in a small window. She didn't expect such a fast response.

_From: Sebastian LaCroix_

_Subject: Assignment_

_We will discuss the meeting with your former fiancée at given time. More important matters are at hand. It has come to our attention that a sample of werewolf blood has made it into the hands of the local tabloid, and that they have sent it on to the clinic in Santa Monica for testing. The responsible party has been dealt with (most painfully, I can assure you), but for obvious reasons we can't have anyone testing the blood. Retrieve the blood sample from the clinic and leave it in your mailbox. –SL_

He could have saved the tiny hint about the faith the poor bastard had received. Katherine flexed her fingers without noticing. The Santa Monica Medical Clinic was not far away and four hours until sunrise should be enough to retrieve the blood sample. Getting the Prince's assignment done as fast as possible should please him, not to mention there was no valid excuse for delaying them as long as she was grounded and what was the story with putting it in the mailbox? Blood needed to be cooled or else it wasn't usable anymore. Wasn't it easier if she'd wipe it out on the spot? _'Don't think about it, just do it like a good obedient soldier.' _Less thinking about LaCroix's motives, less trouble when she had to deal with him. It worked the first time this way and why not the second? Indeed it was better to user her brain to solve other riddles. It was time to go. Her gun rested always in her shoulder holster even when she slept during the day. One more anchor of security.

On the short way to the hospital, Katherine was musing where the blood could be stored. First and most logic location obviously was the cellar where Vandal sold blood bags. He never let anybody into the backdoors but dominating the nut-bag wasn't the problem. The problem was to actually find the cursed blood sample in this mess! There was a Kine down there but questioning him about a specific blood bag should be very suspicious. _'Think again!' _Sitting down on a brown box in the storage room, Katherine pondered. She wasn't from a medical unit, damn it and there wasn't time to search the whole hospital. She could simply kill the human after squeezing him out for knowledge. "Oh...I get it," Katherine jumped up from her box. "Another lesson, am I right my Prince?" She hissed.

"_I said it once before, so listen carefully. It is the last time I repeat myself: Mortals are just as easy to deceive as they are to kill."_

On the Dane she impersonated a reporter. Why not again? The sample was sent in by a tabloid anyway. Katherine opened one of the fridges, took a blood bag out of it and ripped the information sticker down. "Humanity..." did she really loosen the grip on it so much? Anyway it was now time for plan B, approaching the hospital from the front rather taking the backdoor. _A 'Ventrue would never use the back entrance!' _It was hard not to hear this particular thought accompanied by LaCroix's lecturing voice, while kneading her fingers to get rid of the itching.

The reception was crowded with mortals waiting in line, having any possible open wound she could imagine. Bleeding heads, slashing wounds and –she was just guessing - broken limbs as if there had been a gang war in Santa Monica. Katherine considered herself lucky not to be in need of a doctor and walked past the busy nurse.

"Hey lady, please, wait your turn and you'll be seen." Turning around, she faced the nurse who peeked at her. Obstacles this early weren't expected at all and the Ventrue was tempted to wipe this annoyance away. _'Don't forget: it's one of his trials.' _What would she have done if she was still mortal?

"Oh sorry, I'm from the press. A co-worker sent in a blood sample today but it's the wrong one," Katherine held up the cold blood bag she lifted without a second thought from Vandal's stores. "Would you please be so kind and tell me to whom I can deliver the right one?" Wrinkles of wariness streaked through the nurse's face.

"I don't know about a blood sample." Killing seemed easier to Katherine, who stepped to the woman and leaned down, whispering in a low voice.

"It's something special. We sent it in for analysis because I doubt it's human," she poked into the blood bag, the voice becoming more urgent "This is evidence! I know you're surely dealing with a lot of lunatics but go on! Phone your colleagues or something. We sent in a blood sample for testing. _Please tell me where you store them and who's responsible._" To stay on the safe side, Katherine dominated the nurse a bit.

"Upstairs, second floor in the controlled substance room," she replied in a trance. Perfect! Now simply switch them and done. "Peter is responsible for the them. He's upstairs too." Not good, but if he was alone...no! No killing, even if it was the easier option. LaCroix would not be pleased and she did want to please him not only for the sake of her limbs, besides: was she really able to kill for such a minor reason? Feeding was another story or being attacked.

"Thank you and _you now let me pass._"

"Yes, of course. Here are the keys. The doors are locked." The nurse grabbed a single key from one of the drawers and gave it a satisfied smiling Katherine who heard a familiar voice from the first door she passed while walking down the sterile, white tiled floor.

"A doctor...please..." It sounded afraid, helpless and as the vampire opened the door, taking a curious look in, she frowned. It was the missing Heather, covered in blood with a huge wound in her stomach. As the girl recognised her, the eyes behind the glasses went wide. "Miss Falkner, please – get a doctor. My insides...it hurts so bad..." There was no time for this, but...would a mortal Miss Falkner ignore it? Yes, she was something different now, something better, still a whispering voice in her was pleading to help. She'd have done it a year ago! She spared the cops on the Dane, only whacking them K.O. also the guards in the museum. Everything without killing so why now? Because of Hargreaves? No, because she let the Beast rule her.

"Don't worry Heather, I'll find a doctor." Katherine walked down the floor in a hurry and then turned left where she found said white dressed doctor in a room. "Hey, my employee needs help. Now." Annoyed, the man turned around, glaring angrily at the disturber.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you're going to have to wait outside like everyone else. No exceptions."

"She's dying for god's sake!" What the hell was wrong with this country's health system? The doctor turned around, looking at the monitors while preparing an injection. Sweat was on his forehead, his thick dread locks swinging around because of the abrupt motion.

"See here now, I'm the only physician here at the moment. We got twice as many people as usual waiting for treatment. I'll look at her soon as possible. Try to talk to her, keep her awake." Naturally Katherine could dominate the man t do her bidding.

"Listen..." She wanted to grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around so she could look into his eyes. Katherine's hand was slapped away.

"I got a man in there with a bullet in his head! My nurse paged Doctor Roberts a half-hour ago; he'll be here anytime. Till then, stay with your friend and make sure she doesn't go into shock and...damn!" Beeping machines interrupted the doctor's speech. Yes, she could still dominate him but then this man would most certainly die. Could she decide who shall live and who had die? Heather was still young and this man looked older. Katherine helped the girl during Damsel's little intrusion in the Confession, so what if Heather was attacked by the Anarchs because she worked for a Cammy? What if it was hear fault that Heather was dying? Could she bear another death on her shoulders? The Beast approved it. Of course she could. It's just a human. The whispering voice could not and Katherine knew this voice was her conscience. There was still a possibility. That's why Mercurio was very resilient, didn't age... hurrying back she found Heather still groaning in pain, mumbling that someone should call her grandmother.

"Heather?" The girl looked up as her eyes flattered, impending that she was near unconsciousness. Heather was so young but not her preferred blood. Could Katherine have use for her? Was it even the time do decide this yet? But once a mortal drunk the blood of a Kindred he was bound. Addicted. Would LaCroix even allow her a ghoul? "Fuck!" She slammed the door and wrenched open a drawer, searching for something sharp and slamming it back as no useful tool was inside. With the third one, she had luck. "Heather? Listen: drink this and you'll feel better." Using the found scalpel, Katherine slit her wrist and pressed it onto the dying girl's mouth. There was no reaction first but then she moved and swallowed some of the red, cold liquid. Slowly, then faster and more greedy until Katherine pulled her arm back, letting the wound heal and observed how the blood of Heather's wound stopped flowing out. "Better? How are you feeling?" Heather opened her eyes, groaning but obviously recovering.

"Miss Falkner...what did you do?"

"Nothing, I'll go now." Heather grabbed her coat.

"No - no you did something. I can feel it. It's... fixing me. You- I-I kissed your wrist. What did you do?" Crap. She thought Heather was nearly unconscious.

"I told you: nothing. Forget it, you'll be fine."

"I feel like you've always been with me...I just realised this." Oh no, not the Patty-syndrome! Katherine didn't have much experience with Ghouls and Mercurio was never behaving like a lovesick idiot. The reason for this could be of course the fact, that she never met him when his master was around. She even didn't know who his master was at all.

"I really have to go now. Sleep a bit, okay?" Heather nodded and fell almost immediately asleep. "Oh great, I have a Ghoul now." Katherine snorted and walked out, closing the door so she could resume her assignment from the Prince. Heather will surely pop up at the Confession and then Katherine could explain everything. Actually explaining it to LaCroix was more of a headache for her and she needed to think about it seriously after being done here. The key from the nurse fitted into the door's lock at the end of the floor and also in the lock of the door in the second floor. Katherine looked around and didn't spot anyone, so she took the floor to the right, only guessing where the controlled substance room could be and there were even more doors where the floor led to. Gladly they were labelled and to her right she spotted said room. Observing the surroundings a bit, she then stared right into a security camera. Shit!

"Stop miss! This is restricted area, hospital staff only!" Turning around, a guard was approaching her who came out of the door ahead, his hand resting on a holstered gun at his side.

"Oh the nurse downstairs gave me the keys. Are you...Peter by any chance? See, I'm from the press and we sent a blood sample today but it was the wrong one. I'm delivering the correct sample." Katherine wanted to grab into the pocked of her coat, showing the guard the 'real' deal.

"Keep your hands where they are and leave please. You can give it to the lab tomorrow." Damn was that guy kind of careful. Why weren't they all like Chunk?

"Okay...okay," she slowly dragged her hand back. "But I really need to deliver the correct sample."

"Sorry lady, I said no. Now please leave." Dominating? No use, she was on the security cam. _'You stupid, stupid girl!'_ Of course killing the guard was a possibility but it would be all on tape! Another lesson and she understood.

"_Do not underestimate the Kine's use of modern technology."_

It was actually even spoken with LaCroix's voice in her mind; he actually mentioned it when he talked about it once, how necessary the Camarilla was in the modern nights. Words of frustration flung at the guard's face.

"Oh then excuse me! I'm just trying doing my job!" Angry, cold Ventrue eyes darted through the mortal as she passed him, returning to the entrance.

"And I'm doing mine, miss. The keys please." And she slammed those in his opened palm, still trying to kill him with her stare but he didn't even flinch. The guard escorted the unwanted guest till the door and after she was outside, he locked it again. What now? Locked doors, security cameras and probably computers which needed a hack. She needed help and there was only one person who would help her in such a case and who posessed the right skills to do so: Barabus.

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AN: Fast Cube's fast. Sometimes at last. But I didn't want to upset Shikangae, because you don't want to upset French people. They can be really...cruel sometimes, ya' know?


	20. Imperial Order

Holy moley! Thank you **Celeste** (trotzdem machst du mir Angst :]), **Shikangae** (French people are scary. Peroid.), **sister-b** (need moar stories from you!), **Zaekka** (man, bist du grausam D:), **Maellowyn** (the huuuge feedback to my updates is some kind of drug which motivates to write), **rednightmare** (Malcom is quite the odd doctor. Still he has a lot potentil to exploit I guess) and **dropletsoflight** (isn't it fun? I mean LaCroix is the perfect politician. Preach rules to the masses, don't follow them yourself, ha!) for the awesome reviews!

Really. I wish there'd be more than 24 hours a day...

* * *

"And you really think we'll make it in time? It is two hours still sunset?" Barabus sounded worried and Katherine needed a lot of good arguments convincing him to come along. One of them was that he could stay in her haven. Not that she was exactly thrilled to have a Nosferatu walking around in there but it wasn't exactly the Skyline Apartments, so who cares? There needed to be some good will towards the other Kindred who did not even ask for payment. _'Guess he's still glad that I saved his ass.'_ The Sewer Rats may be not the best company in Kindred society but they were the only company she had. _'Tells me where I stand in the ladder...'_

"I know where the sample is, security cams and a guard," dirty sewer water crawled up the cloth of her trouser legs as both vampires walked in a fast pace through the light dimmed sewer system. "And I trust your skills to handle my little...accident with the security cam fast." Barabus smiled.

"My Kung-Fu is not as good as Mitnick's but yeah. No wrong modesty, ha! The system I can't hack has to be invented first!" They climbed up a ladder, pushing back the manhole cover and Katherine took time to wring out the trouser legs. Puddles of sewer water were clues she didn't want to leave behind on the hospital's white tiled floor.

"I don't know if there's stuff to hack, but the guard needs a good hit to the head. No killing, though." Even if that guy made everything unnecessary complicated.

"Yes ma'am!" Barabus saluted with a wide smile. "I'll break the cameras stuff in some medicaments, so they'll think some junkie broke in." Hey, that was something she didn't think of.

"Good idea." It was still a bit much for her to adapt the extreme situations in L.A. In Germany there weren't junkies who broke into hospitals to steal drugs, pr at last such crimes were an exception. Maybe it was a good idea to ask Valerie about her job for once.

Barabus shrugged "Standard plan when we're on some lifting job and a nice second income. People pay a lot for certain stuff if you know what the market demands at the moment." Then he vanished. "Go, lead the way G.I. Jane."

"I didn't like the movie." The shadows snickered amused. This time Katherine chose to pick the backdoor again. "I hope you can pick locks."

"I can kick them but not pick them. Don't tell me you don't have a key or can pick locks yourself." Barabus appeared back in sight after entering the deserted staircase of the hospital again. Katherine's grumpy face was answer enough. "Uh, man you have really a lot to learn until you can call yourself Catwoman. Ever seen a junkie who had enough patience to pick locks? No offense, you're good at shooting your way through-"

"And sneaking if there are not locked doors," she interrupted him. "In other cases I was lucky enough to have a key or being able to shot it open."

"So you don't have a crowbar, I guess." Katherine shook her head, Barabus sighted.

"I used to be on the other side, catching bad guys." At last before she went to Afghanistan, furthermore the military police wasn't responsible for minor civilian crimes.

"Fine, change of plans: I'll kick the door open, you hide and the guard will have sweet little dreams after storming to the door. For the rest we'll work it out somehow." Hey, wasn't she the Ventrue and the leader? When it came down to crimes probably not and on the other hand Barabus was not a bad teacher at all; involved less finger cutting and subliminal messages.

"Fine, I'll wait, Batman." Barabus gave her a thumb up and vanished again. Only a few seconds later the sound of a breaking door echoed through the staircase and fast paced footsteps followed.

"Who's there?" It was the voice of the guard and the last, what Katherine heard of him, was a pain filled "Ughhh" and the noise of a body which fell to the ground.

"The coast is clear, Robin." Katherine walked up the stairs, rolling her eyes about the Nosferatu's comic references, but the fact, that Barabus was already taking care of the unconscious guard, dragging him into what seemed like a common room for the hospital staff, calmed her nerves a bit. He was useful, he had his quirk and she had to bear with it. Period. Maybe after some time she'd become accustomed to those Nosferatu traits. It's like Imalia's Twani Session obsession; Gary had a strange dinner for dead people and Mitnick? She didn't know him but Barabus mentioned that he was even better with that computer stuff. If that wasn't a quirk, what else?

"I am impressed," Katherine smiled. "I feared you'd tear out his lungs like you did it with the Mandarin's thugs." Just in case she gave him a wink and smile, so Barabus wouldn't think those words were some kind of sarcasm. Number one rule when dealing with Nosferatus: Never let them think you're looking down on them and it paid off, obviously.

"Only they treat me like a lab rat. I tell you; sometimes I still have bad dreams." A valid Argument. Katherine had participated in one of the Mandarin's experiments too and it wasn't exactly a nice experience. "Okay, let's see where we find, oh there." Unlike during their first adventure together, it appeared that Barabus was taking the lead for now and being 'Robin' was actually quite refreshing. Katherine was able to observe and to learn from the Nosferatu who had the computers hacked in a few minutes. "Doors open, now for the security cams."

"Back and then to the left, straight ahead should be the security room." At last her first venture wasn't completely in vain and a failure. Again the computers were no obstacle for Barabus.

"Okay, you get the sample. Give me a sign when I can switch the camera back on. Then we'll snatch some pills." Katherine saluted with a grin and headed off to the controlled substance room and it was child's play this time, ripping the sticker from the werewolf blood pack and putting it on the stolen bag from Vandal. The rest was simply to switch them like she intended to do the first time and then walking back to Barabus.

"Fine, all done, let's get the pills but don't forget to delete my little accident." Barabus smiled.

"All done." So far so good. Katherine was satisfied with her idea to ask for help. The door for the medicaments was locked but thanks to the Nosferatu who simply broke them open, it wasn't a very long obstacle and both vampires stuffed their pockets full. "We'll give the guard some, so everyone will suspect him."

"You're doing such stuff often?" Katherine asked. "Or you're damn creative."

"Routine. I'm the one who gets the stuff people want, usually in pair with Imalia who is responsible for the door stuff." Well that was interesting. A former model that was able to pick locks?

"I thought Imalia was a model, not a burglar." As they walked back, Barabus paid the guard another visit and stuffed some pills into his mouth and a bottle into his hand.

"Before being the supermodel she came a lot around so to say." Katherine raised an eyebrow. So beneath Imalia's super star attitude were more layers hidden than expected. Silence fell upon both, as they stepped out of the alley, into the more busy streets. The Nosferatu vanished again and Katherine didn't want to look like she was talking to herself like a bum or beggar. L.A. was already crazy enough for her taste.

Reaching the floor of the tiny and shabby apartment complex, the Ventrue put the sample into her mailbox. The name plate was still unlabeled and Katherine thought about to change that. Was it a good idea at all? She didn't know for sure and decided to leave it like it was.

"Into the mailbox?" Barabus popped out of the shadows, standing next to her.

"Don't ask me. Princely order." Theatrically, she waved around with her hands and Barabus scratched his head.

"Odd order, seriously." And Katherine shrugged.

"I hope I don't receive some heavy mail..." This time she tried her best to ignore the newspaper on the ground but it was no use, as she could feel the vitae again, crawling up her throat, creating a heavy lump of nausea and walking a bit wobbly to her havens door.

"Hey, you're all right?" For Katherine it was a rather odd question to ask and very rare on top. It felt unfamiliar and strange that someone was actually interested in her well being. If it was genuine of course.

"I'm a bit tired after all that walking around," she lied, taking off her coat and throwing it over the only chair in the sporadic room. "Feel yourself comfortable but hands off from the laptop."

"As long as I can raid your fridge," he grinned. "I heard you Ventrue always have a lot of good stuff in it." Katherine slumped into the chair while Barabus opened the fridge and dived with his head into it.

"I'm pretty much not like any other Ventrue obviously." Bitter words and bitter feelings replaced the sickly feeling.

"True. You're the first Ventrue to ever show up in the Warrens and even staying there for a whole week. Can't say I don't like it. Hey!" Barabus dived out of the cold box. "You said you were catching the bad guys before, right?" She nodded. "We're the bad guys of some sorts and it really would make our job safer when we finally get someone into the police, you know?" Katherine had a blank expression on her face, still struggling a bit with her stomach. "Listen," closing the fridge and with a blood bag in his hand, Barabus sat down on the improvised bed. "I know the Camarilla has a certain grip into the media."

"Yes, I know. The story with the Sabbat raid on the Prince's tower was covered by them of some sorts." LaCroix mentioned it after she stumbled into all that mess, the Prince still furious about the ridiculous attempt to steal from him in his own building. "But you really don't suggest that I should gain influence at the LAPD."

"Sure, why not? You Ventrue are pretty good in such stuff and I have no clue why nobody tried to." Barabus opened the bag and took a sip out of it.

"I think there's a good reason for it..." However, she had to admit: it sounded like an interesting venture and to have her own domain of some sorts was a very tempting idea.

"We could really need our own Commissioner Gordon." Thinking about it, it really sounded interesting. Kindred would come to her if they messed up something and then they were in her debt. Why none of her clanmates tip-toed into it could possibly the fact, that there wasn't much profit to make and on top of that: most of them hailed from the business section. What did they know about police work?

"I'll think about it, but I have to wonder why you are so friendly towards me. Sure I helped you out of an ugly mess but I have to admit: your friendliness is going a bit far. Any other Kindred are trying to use me for their own agenda." Paranoia and mistrust was nurtured by friendly behaviour towards her.

Barabus sighed. "Sure it's not all selfless; I'm not going to deny it, Robin. See, if we mess up you can cover our beautiful asses. In return, we can help you." So this is how things rolled.

"Ah, I see and since I'm not like any other Ventrue it's more pleasant to deal with me, correct?" Who else would bother to meet the Nosferatu directly in their hideout rather than contacting them and calling them up into the higher spheres?

"Spot on, Robin!" His laugh reminded more of a growl. However before taking any actions in such a direction, Katherine had to ask the Prince first and while Barabus had fun with the blood pack, Katherine began to cover the windows with cardboards which lay around so that they won't get roasted at sunrise. And the blanket would get a cleansing the next night. One week sleeping in Nosferatu stench was enough and she didn't want to repeat that if not direly necessary.

The next night Barabus went back to the Warrens and Katherine turned on her computer to wait for mail from the Prince. That she was thirsty didn't make things easier, not wanting to decimate her stock further. Gladly, after two hours of distracting herself by washing the blankets, the female announcer released her from the boredom. With a towel in her hand, she hastily clicked on the new message.

_From: Sebastian LaCroix_

_Subject: Tommy Flayton's review_

_I recently read Mr. Flayton's scathing review of the Cavoletti Cafe in the Sun, and I must tell you that I am extremely happy with his conclusions. You have done well, as well as your assistance in regards to the werewolf blood. Please come to the Venture tower in thirty minutes. –SL_

While reading the first lines, Katherine's muscles went tense but then they slowly relaxed and after all the praise, smiling satisfied only to get it wiped away by the last sentence. Half an hour? There wasn't even enough time to feed. She never wanted to meet the Prince again while being hungry but it was foiled by the tight schedule. Fine, then it was better to decimate the storage.

Katherine was sure that LaCroix wanted to talk about the meeting with Tobias but all pondering couldn't suppress her nervousness. Was it even nervousness? It was more mix between fear – horrible fear to meet the Prince again, possible impending punishment again – and joy. Yes joy in a perverted and sick way. Was she developing some kind of strange fetish? _'Never. It wasn't exactly a fun ride being to have my fingers cut every night.' _Said fingers itched horribly. The last possible option could be the blood bond Strauss mentioned, however she still didn't bet a penny on it but on the other hand, regarding the ghouls, well it may be true. She had Heather now to experiment on that, right? But did it work the same way for Kindred as it worked for Kine? Travelling minds weren't as fast as travelling bodies and before she came to terms, the taxi reached already Downtown, parking in front of the Venture Tower. Dark stones radiated an eerie aura Katherine never noticed before. Something dark and sinister, reaching into the sky like a pitch black obelisk made of obsidian and the few lights only adding to the menacing atmosphere. _'Ivory Tower...Damsel really needs some glasses.'_ Fingers nervously flexing, imaginary sweat running down the spine she finally stood in front of the Prince, feeling his cold scrutiny while he sat behind is desk. In time? Check. Not thirsty anymore? Check.

"You summoned me my Prince and I obey." Sneaky like a snake the itching arouse to tingling pain while paper rustled. Gladly it wasn't the sound of a newspaper.

"Every grain of sand you're keeping from me, the less of a desert I inherit." Charity was admittedly a virtue Sebastian LaCroix inherited something one should work for and Katherine could still choke herself for being so dumb, turning it down because of her stubbornness. "Continue on the course you're on now and you may regain my favour." Considering how long vampires could exist, Katherine feared it was nothing too soon even if it was LaCroix who was quick in certain decisions. "About the meeting with your former fiancée I hope you reacted accordingly." His voice went from pleased into sharp and Katherine wanted to spill out that it was his dear little Princess who contacted Tobias but would he believe her sole words without facts?

"Yes Prince LaCroix. Despite being a stubborn man, he was able to track me because someone gave him a tip. I seek permission from you to visit the Nosferatu and acquire information who could have contacted him." Not planned because she didn't consider it before, a blind shot and trying to make use of an opportunity. If she was able to find evidence that Cecilia risked a Masquerade violation – the possibilities! Ambition tickled through her mind while LaCroix seemingly looked sceptical.

"Do you even have any clue where to start, Miss Falkner?" Never missing openings in a fast shot plan, LaCroix had the scary ability to talk down requests. No doubt that it was an important skill to possess as Prince.

"According to Tobias himself he received a call from someone and regarding the fact that such information is stored for a certain amount of time, I can trace the caller back. It must be someone from the states which limits the possibilities significantly. Furthermore the persons who even know about this piece of my mortal life are countable." Los Angeles' Prince rose from his desk, walking to one of the huge windows, his scrutiny now looming above the city like the sword of Damokles.

"Permit issued under a single condition, " everything else would have been too easy. "Inform me about every step you make, every progression there is."

"Yes, Prince LaCroix." Obstacles here, there and everywhere you were looking around.

"Making your own enemies was bound to happen, Miss Falkner." Heels on parquet turned around as LaCroix walked towards her, not stepping down from his little pedestal, forcing the young Ventrue to look up. "In fact I'm surprised that your establishment is still running without major interference, regarding its physical state and labourers." All things holy! LaCroix had a knack to mention the right – or wrong – topics.

"I have to admit that one of my labourers is not being well," words juggled in Katherine's mind, making it even more complicated to pick the right ones. "She was attacked and severely wounded. I found her in the Santa Monica clinic and I suspect also that it was indeed some sort of revenge," a blond eyebrow rose slowly up like the blade of a guillotine. "There was only one possibility. I never thought the health system in this country wou-," Sentence cut off by an annoyed Prince.

"Keep it short, Miss Falkner. My time is valuable and you're not the only person I have to meet tonight." Words hissed through sharp fangs, sending a bolt of fear through her body.

"I fed her my blood." Silence, deadly silence and Katherine awaited the storm, fingers aching as if sharp burning needles penetrated the flesh.

"Very interesting behaviour of yours. You don't regard them as cattle anymore?" During one night he asked about what Hargreaves taught her, giving a thankful pause from all the cutting.

"Some of them are valuable." Sentence spoken without a second thought and Katherine regretted it immediately a half second later.

"Valuable? It doesn't appear to me as if you made a ghoul because it is a valuable Kine." Disapproval oozed out of every princely word. "Clemency is a virtue to spend best rarely; however in regards of your recent good behaviour I grant you one chance. Don't waste it. A violation of the Masquerade or any incidents which bring me into embarrassments will force you to neutralize your ghoul and for you a fitting punishment." For more she couldn't ask. It was a chance, he didn't trust her and anything beyond a chance was ludicrous.

"Of course, Prince LaCroix. I'm very grateful for your generosity." Heather didn't know what happened and until she did, there was no violation of the Masquerade she could make and after inducting her, Katherine would make sure – _very sure_ – Heather won't become a ghoul like Patty, Mercurio's influence bound to occur.

"You may go now. I have no further assignments to entrust at given moment. Good evening." More than the back of his midnight blue suit didn't see the bow she made, before walking out of the office, relieved that all of her fingers were still attached.

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AN: I've cut off a part at the end of the chapter (what's with all the cutting anyway?), because it got too long and too late here and we want to give Katherine a short break for some seconds, don't we? And I'm pondering to go back to the Vampire section.


	21. It's all Fun and Games

**Thank you Shikangae, dropletsoflight, Celeste, Maellowyn, Zaekka and rednightmare for the lovely reviews! I love you! (Just in case I didn't mention it earlier).**

**So now on to the chapter!  
**

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After the doors of the office closed behind her Katherine shut her eyes to collect the lost composure, slowly massaging her temples. Gladly the first meeting with LaCroix went better than expected; still she struggled with a tight feeling in her chest, only slowly escaping fear's grasp. Fine, onto the next topics on her list: Heather, then digging around in dirty laundry including dirty places. Even Baron Abrams didn't like business with the Nosferatu, yet Katherine couldn't shove the impression away that she was a constant guest down there. Not that she was turning into a Nosferatu herself. Good grief! Punching the elevator button while staring into space, she tried to find the right words for Heather. Sadly she didn't know much about her and the worst part was that she never had a very good insight into human nature, even when she was mortal. Interrogations were based on intimidation, so no candy words or deep knowledge of the individual psyche was necessary; besides her job was to investigate either criminal damage or 'accidents'. She could stick to Smiling Jack's words. _'What a scene, man! Hoo-wee! And here I just gave up smoking.' _

The elevator's doors opened upon arrival but much to her surprise it was already occupied by a man dressed in a beige suit that possibly even rivalled LaCroix's expensive fashion collection. However the Kindred seemed to have a liking for light colours judging by the bright pastel blue shirt and white shoes. But the most remarkable trait was his flaming red hair – not coloured - and green eyes. Katherine stepped aside to let him pass, eyes glued to the unusual looking Kindred as his gaze met hers, startling the surprised young Ventrue for a second.

"The fabled protégée of Prince LaCroix," He stopped, smiling widely and baring his white teeth. "Cornelius Dupree, the new Primogen of clan Toreador. I'm pleased to meet you." Strangely enough, her eyes were glued to the Primogen and a jolt of euphoria went through her body as he took her hand, breathing a blow of a kiss onto it.

"Thank you Primogen, I'm honoured." Moving her tongue was difficult, it felt as if it were made of lead, her words pure blasphemy in the presence of this man.

"Oh no, in fact I am! Your tales and deeds are enchanting. I'd love to hear them in detail and I'd be especially enthralled to hear them from you personally. Please grant me this wish." If that was going to happen, Katherine first had to ask LaCroix. Those tales had quite sensitive details she couldn't spill out.

"I think they will bore you. A Primogen's night must be more entertaining I assume." Dupree sighed tormented and squeezed Katherine's hand gently.

"I wish! Meetings, proms and more meetings! You young ones are so enviable being free from all those social events, living to see the unadorned beauty." Definitely Toreador, still those words made her somehow smile. Prince what's-his-name? All her doubts washed away and there were several ways to bypass crucial points.

"If you insist but don't blame me if it's boring. I warned you, Primogen." How could she even consider denying the charming man a wish? Preposterous!

"Then allow me to ask you, if it's not too much, that you'll grace me with your company tomorrow night during Primogen Voerman's grand opening of the Ocean Hotel. It will be much less dull with entertaining Kindred around." Gladly undead creatures couldn't blush anymore. Katherine wasn't able to grasp her luck! To be asked by a Primogen to accompany him to such an important event was outstanding in her position.

"I...don't know what to say, Primogen. Of course! How could I not accept such an offer?" It felt like she was drunk from joy. An emotion she nearly had forgotten, feeling it the last time as she was mortal at the day when Tobias and she got engaged, sweet as honey could be, intoxicating like ambrosia. But this didn't matter at the moment. In fact little else mattered besides Primogen Dupree whose smile thrilled the young Ventrue.

"Again it is my pleasure that you're willing to sweeten this night for me. Else I'd have to fear to die of tediousness - Primogen Voerman may pardon me - but if she did not try so hard to imitate a Ventrue, it would be more entertaining. After all she doesn't share the royal blood like you do." Truer words have never been spoken in Katherine's opinion. "I feared Prince LaCroix would bring you along but he has his childe. So may I expect you tomorrow night at my humble dwelling before we depart to the event? Of course I'll cover all your expenses. Ten o'clock?"

"I'll be there." Dupree smiled and breathed another kiss on her hand to bid goodbye.

"Then I shouldn't the Prince wait any longer." Katherine was hit by a wave of guilt to have delayed Mr. Dupree and hoped LaCroix wouldn't unleash his anger upon him. Primogen lived a very dangerous life here in L.A. and the only exceptions were Strauss and Gary. The rest was changed like underwear.

Stumbling out of the tower, Katherine still felt a little bit dizzy and befuddled. But it was by any means not a bad feeling, well not as good as drinking fresh blood, however still enjoyable, feeling happy since, well since - not since Tobias asked her to marry him. There was something - someone - else which made her happy but who was it again? She pondered about it all the way back to Santa Monica, making a small detour to feed, finding suitable prey after several hours wandering around, head feeling like in a drunken haze, slowly blown away by the hunt.

The L.A. Sun, still waiting to be picked up at the floor which lead to her apartment, finally lifted the haze completely away and to reveal that she was in deep shit. LaCroix won't be amused to hear she accepted Primogen Dupree's invitation on her own. The fingers itched again. _'Oh for fuck's sake...'_ Katherine slumped on the chair like a bunch of misery, burying hands into the dark blond hair. Her first idea was simply not to show up but angering a Primogen was also not the smartest of moves. But she'd blame it on the Primogen's powerful presence. Indeed she didn't deal a lot with Toreador and Jezebel, obviously not as powerful as a Primogen, nearly managed to wrap her around the finger. Wasn't it possible to blame it on Dupree? No, it was again finding an excuse, violating her new standards of behaviour she set up. So there was only a single option left: facing the mess head on and informing the Prince before facing him tomorrow during Therese's little circus and why not having a little fun before being punished again? Katherine tilted up the laptop and started up the email program.

_To: Sebastian LaCroix_

_Subject: For your attention_

_I've met Primogen Dupree in the tower. He invited me to accompany him to Primogen Voerman's event tomorrow night. I accepted._

_Sincerely,_

_Katherine Falkner_

Curt and without any attempt to talk around the essential subject, but the Ventrue stared at the few words for a long time_. _What else to do? All was at the Prince's mercy again.

The only thing she could do was containing the damage: she knew he would be absolutely furious, were she to pop up there unexpected, but he might feel a bit more forgiving if she announced her presence in advance. Slowly, finger hovering above the mouse button and finally sailing down like the blade of a guillotine. At least that's how it appeared to her. _'You're panicking. Perhaps it's not so bad and he'll understand how bad I was affected by Dupree's presence.'_ Short pause. _'Never.'_ Better expecting the worst rather than to be surprised by it. Optimism got lost somewhere in Los Angeles. There was also the chance he'll forbid her the investigation to find out who called Tobias. Indeed this was followed by the fear of punishment but running now out of her apartment could anger the Prince even more, that's why Katherine decided to wait for an answer. Perhaps one of the longest nights she'd faced so far, looking at the screen every few minutes while some local news were on the TV. A report about Ash River's comeback on the screen after it became public that the crazed fan staked not him but a poor bastard who looked alike. Didn't he learn after all the fuss with the hunters? _'Cecilia is protecting him after all.'_ Katherine smirked scoffing_._

Hours passed, no email arrived. Waiting for Godot until sunrise and after raising the mailbox was still empty. It made her nervous. Very nervous. An angry LaCroix wasn't good but a LaCroix who doesn't react was truly unsettling. Leaving one in the dark was nerve-wracking and Katherine hated this Kindred habit. Probably the punishment already begun, letting her flounder like a hooked fish on a pole. The Prince knew which methods got under her skin. Again the urge to hide somewhere safe, even in the Nosferatu warrens again, crawled into her mind, however perhaps she exaggerated her worries. What, after all, could be bad about simply going to a party without spreading important information? She wasn't that dumb anymore. Hopefully. Katherine knew that she had to be careful and watch her tongue.

Driving in a taxi once more through Los Angeles actually the idea appeared that it also could be an opportunity to show LaCroix she wasn't always a brainless wannabe Brujah. That she possessed social skills – perhaps not developed – but still existent to some degree. Gladly some courage aroused in her body to drag herself further while scrutinizing the Primogen's mansion for a second. It was surprisingly modern with a lot glass and metal. Absolutely not to compare with the style the two former Malkavian Primogen used to show off, appearing like a relic of long gone times. Well, so did the Prince with his old Versailles décor. Katherine couldn't deny to be fond of Primogen Dupree. But at the same time she reminded herself to not drop her guard. Hargreaves also appeared like a friendly Kindred. The end of the story was a given. For the last time the young Ventrue straightened her clothes, cleared her head and pressed down the button for the door bell. Again, to her surprise, the Primogen himself opened.

"Accurate on the second," he smiled friendly. Katherine was this time a bit prepared to impact og his presence; however she couldn't shake off the whole effect and smiled confident. Yes, she can pull this off! "Please, come in." The interiors were just like the outside appearance: modern and bright coloured. Better to say something.

"May I note something, Primogen?" Like LaCroix 'taught' her: respect those who are older than you.

"I know you Ventrue are a bit stiff – no offense meant – but please, call me Cornelius." Like during their last meeting in the tower he took her hand and squeezed it cautiously. _'Get a hold of yourself.' _Easier said than done, though. No doubt her heart wasn't beating anymore but it felt like it was about to jump up her throat.

"I thank you, Sir." A pat on her hand. "I-I mean Cornelius." She felt like a teenager again. They reached a larger room, where a woman was waiting, sitting on a chair. As she lifted her head and spotted the two newcomers, she sat up.

"You both met already," Cornelius said. "Mrs. Cruz is my ghoul and the best designer you'll find here in Los Angeles."

"Miss Falkner, I hope my assumption that you are Mrs. LaCroix didn't embarrass you." At first Katherine couldn't remember where she'd met the woman but after mentioning the pretty remarkable occurrence, she did. Mrs. Cruz was the inhabitant of this expensive boutique, where Mercurio sent her to.

"No offense taken." A blatant lie out of courtesy. After leaving the boutique, Katherine was about to strangle someone especially Mercurio. Gladly this little misunderstanding was out of the picture now.

"Mrs. Cruz will prepare you for this evening. So I'll leave you both alone now." Couldn't get worse than the first time, right? Interestingly, after Dupree – Cornelius – left, Katherine felt the wave of feeling calmed slowly down and she suspected that this ability of the Primogen could crush her intent to keep important information for herself. Despite his friendly behaviour, because of it, Katherine was suspicious. Dominate didn't work without eye contact and she always looked at him. Perhaps Cornelius' ability was similar in terms of requirements? But it was impolite not to look at the person you're speaking with. On top of that she didn't have a lot of time to think about a solution. Mrs. Cruz seemed to have a plan how to prepare Katherine, presenting the pondering Kindred a dark blue, pretty tight looking dress.

"It will let your eyes shine!" Well, Katherine didn't care about her eyes.

"Is there also space for this?" Opening the left side of her blazer and presenting a small glimpse of the holstered gun: it was really Katherine's greatest concern to lose one of her precious security anchors. Mrs. Cruz sighed.

"You are going to a social event, not to the shooting range." Demonstrating how seriously she meant it, Mrs. Cruz shoved the dress more energetic than necessary into Katherine's hands. "You can leave all the things you don't need in the car."

"You don't want to see my equipment when I visit the shooting range." There was no way she'd walk around without Mr. Koch! How could a mere ghoul tell her – a Kindred! – what she had to do and what not? Staring angrily into the other woman's eyes, she'd pushed the dress back. "I will keep my gun." Dominate was such a handy discipline, understanding even better why LaCroix was often relying on it LaCroix, LaCroix...Katherine remembered as much as she wanted to deny it: his image helped her during the little problem with Jezebel. It was worth a try and the only clue she had at the moment.

"Yes..." With an empty look in her eyes the ghoul stared into her gaze. "...I have a suiting purse in my boutique. I'll go and fetch it."

"Excellent. Meanwhile I put on the dress." More talk would have been wasted, as Mrs. Cruz walked out of the room and left Katherine alone for nearly an hour, but it was worth the wait to get her gun along as "brujahish" it might be, even for her taste. Not that she also cared for Mrs. Cruz's sour face for the rest of the time. Surprisingly she seemed not to have told it to Cornelius and the reason behind it was not impossible to guess. Perhaps she didn't want to admit a failure of some sorts to her master, but Katherine had to struggle with her own problem in regard of the Primogen. As soon as she laid her eyes on him the lovesick feeling crawled back into her brain, clouding her judgement. Most frustrating, hence she was aware of it but couldn't do practically anything against the effect. Even the attempt to conjure an image of an angry Frenchman failed miserably, like a card house standing near an opened window. At least she managed somehow to retain the sense not to tell crucial "tales". So she humoured Primogen Dupree with her "exciting" adventure in the Hallowbrook Hotel when it still was the glorious gory Sabbat base in L.A., mocking the Prince with its mere existence until they arrived at the Ocean Hotel. Fully renovated and illuminated, the former burned building lost a lot of its creepy atmosphere which it inherited at Katherine's first visit. The lawn was green and finely cultivated. Colourful flowers – at least colourful during daylight – were cradled by the wind. Nothing remained from the homicide which took place here. No exploding lamps and flying objects as both Kindred stepped into the Hotel and no blood covered apparitions – some with a huge fire axe – freaked out the present, among them some known faces. A lot had changed since her last visit here. The stairs were fixed and everything looked shiny and new. Still the style was all the same as if everything was out of an old Humphrey Bogart movie.

Of course the hostess Therese Voerman herself in a black dress greeted them. Correction: she greeted Primogen Dupree, chatting a good amount of time about seemingly uninteresting topics. Katherine was considered with a warning glare. Enough to tell the young Ventrue not to talk about the secret that surrounded the Voerman sisters and how Therese obtained the Ocean Hotel. Great. Even more tales got deleted from the list. On the other hand: Therese was not Prince LaCroix, who stood among some other Kindred Katherine didn't know. Strauss was nowhere to be seen and it fitted the mysterious Tremere to stay out of such events. But upon spotting the Prince, the cloud lifted a bit and fear got a small grip. All previous plans to stay confident foiled once more. Katherine felt misplaced, like a toy around those Kindred. Not long ago she decided not to be a toy anymore. But where the heart was unshakable, the mind was full of doubts.

"We should greet the Prince, shall we?" At first she wanted to shake her head, realising afterwards how hard it was to get rid of her hapless habit. How could she possibly avoid LaCroix this evening, else finding a way to get suddenly better in obfuscate? Fate sure was twisted in a certain way and Katherine's wish to hide herself in the darkness was granted as suddenly the lights went out. A murmur went through the room, more annoyance than surprise. However Katherine's muscles tensed, eyes darting around to recognise silhouettes which the faint moonlight offered to them. Sound of bursting glass and sudden bright light blinded her eyes; the smell of burning fuel filled the air, mixed with the sound of panicked screams as the fire found food in form of fabric and wood. As primitive as a Molotov cocktail was, it was effective and like any other Kindred Katherine had to fight with the natural fear of fire that every single one of them was born with. She fought the fear once before and emerged as a victor, besides Bach's conflagration was much bigger. Another bottle filled with the inflammable content shattered the glass of a window, exploding and setting more on fire, cutting them off from the main entrance, the only escape route Katherine knew of.

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AN: Not much going on in this boring chapter. It was a pain to write. At last the fun is now starting but since I'm a bit occupied otherwise, it'll take some time until I'm finished. I have a chronicle to rule! Bwahahahaha! *puts her Plushie Gorilla on the head and readies some lightning bolts*

PS: A THOUSAND THANKS to dropletsoflight for sending me corrections about a lot of evil (and stupid) grammar errors!


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